Miss    Frances    M.   Molera 


LIFE    BELOW 


IN    SEVEN    POEMS. 


NEW    YORK:      - 

PUBLISHED    BY    KURD    AND    HOUGHTON. 
SEUbetsftoe 
1868. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1868,  by 

HURD  AND  HOUQHTON, 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the   District  Court  for  the  Southern  District  of 
New  York. 


To 
HIS   PARENTS, 

WHOSE   GENEROUS   CONFIDENCE   HAS   ALLOWED  THE  AUTHOR 
MEANS   TO    CULTIVATE   AND   TIME  TO    RIPEN 

m**t  first  fruits  of  &rt, 

THEY  ARE  MOST  AFFECTIONATELY 

DEDICATED. 


M505434 


CONTENTS, 


PAGE 

THE  SCALE:    Do i 

CHOOSING 5 

RE     ...                                                ...  45 

DARING 47 

Mi 85 

DOUBTING 87 

FA 121 

LEARNING 123 

SOL 161 

LOVING 163 

LA 199 

SERVING 201 

Si 247 

WATCHING 249 

Do 285 


LIFE    BELOW. 

THE    SCALE; 
DO. 


I 


Which  yet  should  be  the  tales  of  more  than  one, 
For  they  should  be  of  soul-life,  not  of  sense. 
Our  deeds  extern  are  transient.     There  is  life, 
More  than  what  smiles  at  home,  and  bends  at  church, 
And  bows  upon  the  street ;  beneath  things  seen, 
Their  unseen,  constant,  universal  cause, 
The  life,  which  good  men  hope  shall  be  eternal. 
Express'd  in  act,  forever  flexible 
To  circumstance,  it  still  is  lord  of  forms. 
As  child,  it  starts  to  gain  its  choice :  opposed, 
Retires ;  then,  planning  wiser  ways,  anon 
It  starts  to  do,  anon  shrinks  back  to  think, 
Till  alternating  strife  be  call'd  to  rest 
With  that  Eternal  Cause  who  thus  allow'd 
Experience  to  apprehend  and  aid 
The  onward  course  of  universal  gain. 
Of  such  life  did  I  purpose  to  relate, 
Not  all  unmoved  by  consciousness  of  power, 
Relying  still  upon  that  Source  which  gave, 
And  shall  give  greater,  strength  to  all  who  strive 
With  what  they  have."     So  spake  the  man  of  books, 
The  village  author,  'mid  a  little  throng, 
At  sunset  gather'd,  ere  dispersing  home, 
I 


2  INTRODUCTION. 

To  chat  of  news,  around  the  blazing  hearth 

That  warm'd  a  small  town's  post-office  and  store. 

"  Alas,"  he  added  then,  "  this  ruthless  war  ! 

You  know  my  scribe  went  last  week,  and  that  scribe 

Was  versed  in  all  notes  of  my  earlier  life 

From  which  I'd  thought  to  frame  these  later  tales. 

I  could  not  keep  him  back,  had  gone  myself 

But  for  this  palsied  hand ;  and,  yet,  'twas  hard  ! 

No  healthy  hand  to  loan  in  all  the  town  — 

My  work,  you  see,  like  yours,  must  wait  for  peace." 

"No!"  said  the  young  store-clerk,  "there  I  protest: 

The  business  hours  aside,  this  hand  is  yours." 

The  words  call'd  forth  his  master  :  "  Not  too  fast  ! 

From  dawn  to  dark  's  enough  for  your  slight  frame ; 

That  too  with  double  work  already,  boy."  — 

And  thence  a  brisk  discussion  sprang  apace, 

Till,  in  the  end,  each  of  the  company 

Had  vouch'd  himself  best  fitted  for  a  scribe. 

The  old  man  smiled  ;  nor  would  accept,  at  first ; 

But  last  he  said  to  waxing  earnestness  : 

"  This  war,  at  least,  shall  yield  to  compromise  ! 

My  tales  begin  with  youth,  and  end  with  age  ; 

Haply,  if  my  scribes  fit  these  spheres  of  thought 

They'll  aid  the  younger,  and  the  older  too. 

Let  me  select,  according,  then,  to  years  ; 

And  choose  the  boy  first  !  "     So  it  was  agreed  : 

And  furthermore  ;  that  each,  when  he  had  written, 

Should  read  his  part  before  a  social  club 

Form'd  of  those  present  and  their  families. 

Some  time  had  pass'd  ;  and  then  the  young  store-clerk 

Seem'd  taught  in  riddles,  and  in  strange  conceits  ; 

And  had  grown  well-nigh  famous  in  the  town. 

To  those  well  versed  his  self-vague  talk  appear'd 

Like  one's  who'd  rummaged  not  digesting  parts 

Of  rat-gnaw'd  libraries.     In  after  time, 

More  wisely  could  the  wise  surmise  its  source. 


INTRODUCTION, 

For  he  had  raved  of  mystic  numbers,  thus  : 

"Like  to  the  seven  days  that  mark  the 'week, 

Of  scales,  men  trace  in  music,  stars  and  plants, 

And  dream  in  heavens,  hells,  and  worlds  ;  as  tho' 

Nature  herself  had  tallied  what  she'd  made  ; 

Seven  stratas  counting  through  the  senseless  rock, 

Seven  forms  in  life,  as  many  in  each  form, 

The  last  one  man,  in  Nature's  Sabbath-time, 

Living,  perchance,  seven  spheres  of  history  — 

All  men,  and  each  !  "  —  and  one  old  carper  'd  told  : 

"  As  tho'  a  rock  and  spirit  were  alike  ;  " 

How  "  he'd  said  :  '  man  and  nature  had  one  life  ! 

Augustine,  Plato,  and   Pythagoras, 

Had  they  not  deem'd  the  soul  -  a  number  ?  sphere  ?  — 

Tho'  yet,  who  were  full  wise  enough  to  read 

Down  underneath  rough  angles  and  rude  lines 

To  methods  mathematical,  that  speak, 

Like  children's  faces  of  the  soul  beneath, 

Deep  traits  of  this  divine  philosophy  ? '  " 

Thus  did  the  youth  pass  for  a  clever  lad, 

To  make  the  girls  laugh,  and  to  bluff  the  boys, 

Long  ere  the  evening  came  when  his  proud  mother 

His  neck-tie  pinn'd,  and  kiss'd  his  cheek,  and  said  : 

"  Now  dear,  and  don't  forget  —  read  loud  enough  !  " 


POEM    FIRST. 


CHOOSING. 


LIFE   hangs   poised    on    slender   moments ;    all 
Eternity  on  Time ; 
And  the  still   small  voice   betokens   presence   of  a 

sway  sublime. 
Tread,    as    light   as    dreams,    may  wake    the    soul's 

hush'd  spontaneity, 
Rouse  the  source  whence  Thought  and  Action  issue 

toward  their  destiny,  — 
Toward   the   good,    if  moved    by  footsteps   echoed 

from  a  path  of  weal  ; 
Toward  the  ill,  if  slyly  summon'd   by  the  craft   of 

baser  zeal. 
It  may  be    a   sound,  a  fragrance,  or  a  light,  glides 

near  the  mind  ; 
Something  stirs  a  wish  within  us  ;  something  gleams, 

we  glance  to  find  ; 

And   we    start ;   and    then    press  forward,    past   op 
posing  scenes  of  youth  ; 
Past  all  life,  perchance,  till  Old  Age  falls  to  spring 

the  gates  of  Truth. 


6  CHOOSING : 

II. 
Everything,  in  art  or  nature,  robed  in  rich  or  rude 

attire, 
Gathers  beauty  by  possessing  power  to  prompt  some 

pure  desire. 
For  the  Will  commands  her  own  charms ;  and,  from 

wide-distracted  throne, 
Waives  all  claim  of  rival  suitors  for  a  pure  Desire 

alone. 
Thus,  we  find,  a  fairer   fancy  blooms    in    dear    but 

distant  views, 
Through  which    blind    or   banish'd    poets    search   a 

dream  of  halo  hues. 
Thus,  we  find,  when  Evening  Shadows  bend  about 

the  couch  of  Day, 

Life,  array'd  in  fresh  attraction,  lies  along  the  grow 
ing  gray. 
For  the  dim  relief  of  objects  woos  our  Wonder  and 

Surmise, 
And    the    Sibyl    Stars   invite    to    solve   the    tale  of 

silent  "Skies  ; 
While    the    zest    of  Aspiration,    as    more   sovereign 

plans  evolve, 
Crowns  the  brow  of  meek  Conjecture  with  the  flush 

of  bold  resolve. 

in. 

Is  it  strange  if,  such  an  evening,  through  the  smoul 
dering  lines  of  strife, 

Such  an  evening,  far  and  hazy,  loom  the  sweetest 
scene  of  life  ? 


A   POEM.  7 

Is  it  strange  if  Memory,  gazing  through  a  wake  of 

stormy  skies  ; 
Or   an   older    Mind  recall  it,  clad    in    graver,  wiser 

guise  ? 

IV. 

Sunset  waned  ;  and  I  sat  watching,  with  sensations 
strange  and  wild, 

Till  I  grew  a  thing  mysterious,  and  too  grand  to 
be  a  child. 

I  was  not  of  earth,  or  heaven,  but  was  one  with 
that  mild  light, 

Which  had  veiPd  in  awe  the  hills  before  the  sacred 
steps  of  Night ; 

And,  through  all  the  clouds  that  floated,  rose  the 
forms  of  angels  fair  ; 

And  I  seem'd  to  feel  their  whisper  in  the  warm 
breath  of  the  air. 

Far  adown  the  west  I  traced  them,  till  their  min 
gling  lines  were  brought 

Nigh  a  boundless  mountain,  gleaming  o'er  a  peace 
ful  sea,  I  thought ; 

Where  anon  were  purple  islands,  lax  in  languid 
Autumn-noon ; 

And,  a-sail  the  azure  distance,  came  in  view  the 
crescent  moon. 

On  her  stilly  course  I  linger'd,  till,  with  joy  and 
marvel  great, 

I  descried  a  wondrous  city,  glimmering  past  a 
golden  gate  ! 


8  CHOOSING : 

V. 
Ah,  it  was  a  wondrous  city,  that  bright  city  in  the 

cloud  ! 
How   its    towers    and    turrets    glisten 'd,    with   what 

wealth  of  light  endow'd  ! 
How  the  walls  which  coiPd  around  it  glow'd .  adown 

their  winding  belt ! 
And  how  flash'd  the  dancing  crystals,  which  about 

the  bulwarks  dwelt ! 

Underneath  that  sight,  triumphant,  stretch'd  a  tem 
pest  black  along  ; 
'Twas  a  diapason,  rolling,  rich   but  rough,  below  a 

song !  *  ^ 

For,  above,  in  countless  number,  press'd  the  domes, 

and  pierced  the  spires,  — 
Domes,  more  pure  than  pearly  altars,  sanctified  by 

Heaven-lit  fires  ! 
Domes,  of  form  to  rival  dreaming !  domes,  of  every 

higher  hue  ! 
Join'd  with   spires   from    darkness  pushing,   till    the 

peaks  effulgence  knew  ! 
Spires,  like  prayers,  from  vapors  struggling,  gaining 

glory  round  the  Bar  ! 
Spires,  like  Hope,  to  falter   never,  till  it  touch  the 

fated  star  ! 
Then,    deep     down  —  my    gaze     profaning  —  what 

retreats  for  bliss  I  found, 

'Mid   the  weird-illumined    mansions,  and    the    peer 
less  streets  around ! 
Streets,  as  shafts   of  light,  far  shooting,  dying  like 

the  sun  from  view, 


A   POEM.  9 

Through  a  shade  of  forests,  brilliant  still  by  radiant 
fruit  that  grew  ! 

Beauteous  city !  how  I  loved  it !  how  forgot  this 
present  star  ! 

There  content,  like  him  of  Pisgah,  with  the  prom 
ise,  tho'  so  far  ! 

VI. 

When,  at  length,  to  self  returning,  my  Desires  grew 
mutinous  ; 

And  too  rebel  Meditation  to  their  tocsin  murmur'd 
thus  : 

"  Six  years  ;  it  is  long  to  languish,  with  no  teacher 
but  my  God, 

In  these  stolen  hours  of  study,  snatch'd  from  swine, 
and  sweat,  and  sod. 

Wherefore  was  I  left  an  orphan,  and  a  ward,  with 
out  a  joy, 

To  that  sateless  judge  ?  His  Satan  seem'd  a  better 
breed  of  boy ! 

I  suppose  —  a  frame  so  feeble  —  he  had  hopes  that 
it  would  die  ; 

And  so  bound  me  out  as  plowboy,  to  make  friend 
ship  with  the  sky ! 

Bound  to  those  with  mood  repulsive ;  finding  water 
for  the  fire  ; 

Yes,  a  hiss  for  every  spark  that  holds  a  glimmer 
ing  of  desire ! 

Heaven  above  :  one  thing  I  pray  for ;  not  release 
from  toil  and  pain  ; 

But  the  work  that  meets  both  cheerly,  facing  still 
a  chance  for  gain. 


TO  CHOOSING: 

Lead   me   toward  those  waiting  regions,  thick  with 

thought,  by  man  unknown, 
Filling  space,  from  orb  and  orbit,  through  to  glory 

round  the  Throne  ; 
Lead    me    up,    that   I    may  find    there,  light  which 

has  not  been  possess'd ; 
Light,  to  guide  Earth's  wavering  Faith !  a  cynosure 

of  certain  rest ! 

VII. 

"  Vain,  oh,  vain,  this  hope.     Its  cheer  is  hollow,  as 

were  demon's  mirth. 
This    is    weak  —  to    sigh   for    Heaven  when    one  's 

made  to  scrape  the  Earth  ! 
Better   far   to    keep    the    level ;    turn    from    hights 

suggesting  lore  ;  — 
Wisdom    makes   the  vulgar   worthless ;  —  herd  with 

brutes  here,  evermore  ! 
Shall  I?    Ears,  no  lie  can   lull   you  to  that  distant, 

holy  strain  ! 
Eyes,    no    lower   gloss    can    dim   you    to    the    stars 

which  o'er  you  reign ! 
Toil-worn  Hands,  right    dainty  fingers    serve  a  soul 

less  coarse  than  we ! 
Thorny  Ways,    the    Palace    carpet    hugs    no    richer 

blood  than  ye  ! 
Storms  that  rage,  your   rivals    gather   here   beneath 

as  restless  brows  ! 
And    their    thunders    crave    report    from    something 

else  than  grating  plows  ! 


A   POEM.  II 

VIII. 
"  Oh,    how   oft,    when    I've   been   lying   underneath 

the  great  oak-trees, 
Or   mysterious    stars   of  midnight,   I   have   dream'd 

of  endless  ease  !  ^ 

And  of  that,  divine,  had  visions,  fill'd  for  compre 
hension  vast, 

So  that  mine,  with   utmost   effort,  caught   but   por 
tions,  as  they  pass'd  ; 
Portions    yet    of   charm    so    potent,    that,    renewing 

every  main, 
Thought  would   still   soar    on    to    match  them,  and 

would  soar,  and  soar  in  vain, 
Till,  to  its  bewilder'd   yearning,  all  things   mixt,  to 

merge  in  shade, 
Through  which  sank  the  train  of  grandeur,  and  the 

hope  which  found  it  fade. 
Woe    of  mortals  ;    to   be   grounded,  'mid  the  mists 

of  one  small  sphere, 
While  bright  beacons,  from  high  havens,  throng  the 

midnight,  far  and  near ! 
Oh  but  soul !    in   sight   of   Heaven,  favoring  winds 

cannot  forsake ! 
Life  —  it    moves,  in   tardy  progress,  tho'    so    slowly 

grow  its  wake. 
Onward  !   Oft  some  keener  thinker,  pressing  through 

a  myth,  long  sought, 
There  reveals  the  flags  of  wisdom  far  along  the  line 

of  thought ! " 


12  CHOOSING: 


IX. 

With    emotions,    ne'er    allaying,    I    remain'd  ;    and 

watch'd  that  cloud, 
Till    those   living   forms    seem'd   buried  in  a  gently 

gather'd  shroud. 
Yet,  my  gaze  still  rested  on  it :  naught !  oh  !  naught 

of  good  can  die  ! 
But,  for   changeful    resurrection,  sinks    to   rise,  and 

purify  ! 
Blessings  grieve  us,  when   they  leave  us  ;   but  they 

leave  no  sunless  gloom  : 

Springs  a  new  life   of   reflection :    and   more   beau 
teous  thought  to  bloom. 
While  enwrapt  in  contemplation,  lo  !  came  suddenly 

a  change ! 
All  the  width   of  western   heaven  drew  apart,  with 

flashing  strange  ! 
Whence  pure  Clouds  in  speed  assembled,  as  if,  thus, 

to  screen  from  me 
Tens    of  thousand    flames,  which    lit    a    passage  — 

through  Infinity  ! 
Rapture  then  my  brain  bewilder'd !     Every  thought 

to  passion  flew  ! 
"  Surely  !    surely  !     Celebration    Brightness    crowns 

with  halo  new ! 
It  may  be    an    angel    greeting    to    some    saint !  "  — 

Then,  lost  in  flight, 
Flits  this  whim,  where  lights  another  !    for  behold  ! 

a  stranger  sight ! 
Swift,  from    flash  to  flash   augmenting,  as  a  torrent 

seeks  the  sea. 


A   POEM.  13 

Streams    that   fire    from   out   the   distance,    surging, 

surging  nearer  me ! 
Now,  'twas  my  whole  spirit  flutter'd.     "  Here's   the 

World's  last  ransom  brought ! 
Crampt !    how   crampt    these    fleshly   fetters !     Yes, 

they  burst !   they  burst !    I   thought. 
Near  such   end,  the  wish   grew  gentler,  satisfied  to 

wait  a  time  ; 
Satisfied  ;   for    that,  which    lured    it,   sent    before   a 

soothing  chime. 

Sweet  it  was,  with  deeper  sweetness,  than  our  mor 
tal  breathing  brings  ; 
Speaking  peace,  profound    and  lasting,  as  the  love, 

from  which  peace  springs ; 
Full   subduing    all    the    being,  in  a  spell,  resistless 

found 
As  the  wreck'd    and    sinking    sailor    feeling   silence 

steal  around  ; 
Nor  can  memory  retain  it;  better  bid  yon  meadow 

nook 
Hold  the  whole  ,  great    rain,  which    blest    it,  on  its 

journey  down  the  brook. 

x. 

Ay !    when    men,    who    speak,    directing    toward    a 

spring  of  healing  truth, 
Toward    a    stimulant    of   beauty,    pure    to    stay    an 

endless  youth, 
While    attempting,   falter,  blunder,    and,    with   sense 

dividing  wide, 
Void    of    close    and    clear    expression,    end    where 

almost  all  deride, 


14  CHOOSING: 

Blame  them  not !    the  case  is  human  !    words  with 

ease  bear  thoughts  below, 
But  they  fail  beneath   the   press    of  higher  themes, 

which  overflow  ! 
Many    guiding    views    beyond    us    loom    but    dimly 

understood  : 

Many  schemes  are  hatch'd  to  famish  where  our  im 
perfections  brood. 
Oh  !  how  oft,  e'en  stirr'd   to   rescue   dearest   friend 

from  threaten'd  woe, 
Or  to  point  him  toward  successes,  we  have  yearn'd 

that  wish  to  show  ; 
When  the  lack  of  tact  or  temper  has  equipt  advice 

amiss, 
Frail    as  Truth   that    leans    and  whispers    hob-and- 

nob  with  Prejudice. 
And  how  often,  as   the    sunshine,   or   the    lightning 

blazed  within, 
We  would  save  a  gleam    of  duty  for  the  virtue  of 

our  kin. 
When,  if  brighter  could  reflect  it,  ,we,  at  least,  were 

dull  as  night, 
Striving  ever,  failing   ever,  half  our  view  to  mirror 

right ! 
Foremost    of    Endowments    precious !      Faith    fails 

not,  that  can  but  feel ! 
Yet  for  Faith,  how  blest  the  mission,  that  can,  too, 

the  near  reveal ! 
Station'd  where,  'mid  doubt  and  darkness,  Thought, 

which  moves  through  mystery, 

Longs    to    point   to    things    alluring,   longs   to   spy, 
what  others  see, 


A   POEM.  15 

There,  with  gifts   from    Heaven   enkindled,  flashing 

light  to  Teaching's  aid, 
And,  for  anxious  Quest,  disclosing  Truth  that  lives 

beyond  the  shade  ! 


This  for  preface  :    That  remember'd  somehow  thus, 

in  measures,  ran  : 
Varied  aye   to   changeful    music,   not   restricted    by 

the  plan  : 
But  each  single  voice  swell'd  freest ;  either  past  all 

discord  sweet ; 
Or  with  depth,  below  disturbing,  tuned  to  harmony 

complete. 
Thus  the  words  :    and    seem'd  to  purport   praise  to 

One  of  Sovereign  Might, 
Recognized  by  eager   senses   as   the  Royal  Source 

of  Light: 

XII. 

"  Hail !   hail  !   hail  ! 

Eternal  Glory,  hail ! 
Ye  powers  of  right,  attend  the  Light, 

With  praise  for  every  ray  ! 
All,  all  were  blight,  and  no  delight, 

Without  that  blissful  sway ! 
Before  'd  begun  a  star  or  sun, 

High  Splendor  fill'd  the  Throne, 
When,  ere  the  birth  of  air  or  earth, 

Jehovah  lived  alone. 

Gleam  !   gleam  !   gleam  ! 

And  ever  brighter  beam  ! 
Far,  far  away,  through  endless  day, 

Invoke  the  growing  theme  ! 


1 6  CHOOSING: 

"Hail!    hail!   hail! 

Infinite  Goodness,  hail ! 
From  Heavenly  hight,  through  day,  through  night, 

Down,  down  to  deepest  Hell ; 
From  central  Throne  to  vacant  zone, 

Thy  radiant  Mandates  dwell. 
Move  forth  in  might,  where  all  is  bright  ! 

And  cheer,  where  sometimes  shade  ! 
In  weeping  sphere,  the  rainbow  rear  ! 

Then,  pierce  to  darker  glade ! 

Shine!   shine  !•  shine  ! 

The  universe  is  thine  ! 
Through  blackest  Hell,  burst,  full  and  fell, 

Like  lightning,  flame  divine ! 

"Hail!   hail!   hail! 

Almighty  Power,  hail ! 
At  thy  command,  'mid  blazing  grand, 

The  holy  army  hies  ; 
With  flash  of  worth  about  the  earth, 

Pursuing  lust  and  lies. 
Through  wind,  and  wave,  and  crystal  cave, 

They  charge,  in  far  control ; 
And,  marshall'd  round,  with  thunder  sound, 

The  Tempest  tongues  enroll. 

Wail !   wail !   wail ! 

Ye  powers  of  darkness  quail ! 
No  respite  till  the  Wrong  is  still, 

And  Foulness  found  —  to  fail ! 

"Hail!    hail!   hail! 

Unchanging  Promise,  hail ! 
O'er  storms  and  jars,  the  flickering  stars 

Burn  on,  our  long  fear  through. 
Aurora  lights  her  giddy  hights. 

The  comet  cleaves  the  blue. 
On  sand  and  sea  the  Shadows  flee. 

Awaking  winks  the  Dew. 


A   POEM.  17 


The  morn  is  nigh.     The  breeze  is  high. 

Far  break  the  Fogs  anew ! 

Speed  !   speed  !   speed  ! 

And  gild  the  gloomy  mead  ! 
Through  every  clime  call  up  the  prime 

Of  holy  Creed  and  Deed  ! " 


XIII. 

Ere  the  Echoes,  far   excited,  learn'd   the   tones   of 

half  the  lay, 
I  descried    the    choir    that   chanted,  treading  down 

their  starry  way  :  — 
Such    a    sight,    as    all    have    witness'd,    roused    by 

Morn's  first  Herald-Gleam, 
Floating  up  the  edge  of  slumber,  in  a  just  awaking 

dream  — 

Angel  forms,  no  man  could  number,  stretching  on 
ward  through  the  light, 
Round    a    chariot,    framed    of    splendor,   drawn    by 

steeds  of  wavering  white, 
Soft  of  step,  which  skipt  the  vapors  ;  and  with  wings 

of  texture  rare, 
Whence  there  throbb'd  a  murmur'd    music,  as  they 

lightly  struck  the  air. 
In  the  chariot  sat  a  Being,  fair,  beyond  the   reach 

of  rhyme, 
Fledged  for  dauntless   flight  of  fancy,  to  recall  the 

mien  sublime. 

XIV. 

While   I  kneel'd,  entranced,  she   reach'd   me,  then, 
as  angel  bands  disperse, 


1 8  CHOOSING: 

With  a  low  command,  so  love-full  it  could  lull   the 

universe, 
"  Come,"  said    she,  "  and   sit  beside   me."     And  I 

rose,  I  wis  not  how, 
And  within  the  place  was  seated.     I  had  not  known 

bliss  till  now ! 
'Thwart    the    earth,   and    through    the  vapors,    over 

land  and  lake  it  springs, 
With  a  swift   but   gentle    motion,  marshall'd  on  by 

beating  wings ; 
Till,    through    long    horizons    pulsing,    flash'd    and 

pass'd  us  beacon  gleams, 
And    uncertain    forms    of    twilight,    floating    storm- 

toss'd  lightning  streams. 

xv. 

Then,  full  much,  I  long'd  to  ask  her,  where  we 
were,  how  far  my  home ; 

But  while  yet  I  dared  not,  kindly,  knowing  whither 
thought  did  roam, 

She  replied  :  "  My  child,  that  homestead,  it  is  fixt 
within  a  star  ! 

We  have  left  the  bounds  of  matter,  here  is  burst 
each  prison  bar, 

Out  from  which,  with  straiten'd  senses,  and  a  sad 
dening  sway  of  strife, 

Souls,  like  convicts,  through  their  grating,  steal  a 
luring  glimpse  of  life. 

Here  are  regions,  where  the  spirit,  freed  from  fet 
tering  time  and  space, 

Wings  her  flight  through  scenes  eternal ;  reading 
thought  as  face  reads  face  ; 


A   POEM.  19 

Gaining   wisdom    from    the    wise,  who  wonder  with 

sincerity, 
Pure,  beyond  the  darkening  mien  that  decks  an  ill 

supremacy. 
In  the  world,  brains   mould    to    bodies,  but    across 

the  border  line, 
Royal  minds  must  share  their  purple  :    slaves  with 

kings  become  divine. 

XVI. 

"  Oh !  if  but  one  spirit  vision  flared  to  reach  the 
groping  man, 

In  one  glance  were  comprehended  more  than  life 
long  search  can  scan  !  — 

Soft,  my  steeds.  —  The  stars  are  slumbering.  There 
are  dreams  afloat  to-night. 

Gaze,  and  gain,  while  passing  through  them,  seg 
ments  of  angelic  sight ! 

Circle  these  with  all  bright  fancies,  forged  in  all 
these  burning  spheres, 

From  Arcturus,  past  Orion,  far  as  where  the  Cross 
uprears  ; 

Conjure  clear  as  minds  that  muse  them,  diverse  as 
their  interest; 

Add  completed  recollection  ;  and  all  thoughts  that 
each  suggest ; 

Then,  conceive  a  saint's  possession  thus  matured 
from  hight  to  hight, 

Naught  too  full  for  God  to  render  from  resources 
infinite  !  " 


20  CHOOSING: 

XVII. 

As  she  spoke,  along   the   gloaming,  there   appear'd 

what  seem'd  a  grove, 
Shading  maddest  mixtures,  thronging  back  through 

labyrinths  unwove  ! 
Fountains,  arbors,  caves  and  mountains,  wolds  and 

wildernesses  grand, 
Hung  to  wild  fantastic  fortunes  o'er  a  dizzy  dearth 

of  land  ; 
Based    on    clouds,    all    diamond-dappled,    emerald 

meads  and  mottled  meres, 
Spann'd  by  bounding  balustrades,  which  mesh'd  the 

loops  of  spray-shot  piers  ; 
Trees,  heaven-high,  where  swung  blithe  moonbeams 

rock'd  as  on  Behemoth's  bed; 
Velvet  fields,  with  tender  grasses  humbled  'neath  a 

fairy's  tread  ; 
Flowers  and  fruit,  which  flush'd  and  nodded  where 

alternate   Autumn-sheen, 

Like  a  flood   of  amber,  whelm'd  thick   twilight-tan 
gled  evergreen  ; 
Houses,    gardens,    tombs    and    temples,    flags    and 

fleets,  and,  round  them  swept, 
Masses,    mazes     of    inventions,    every    whim,    e'er 

wrought  or  wept ; 
Birds    and   beasts,    all    shapes,    all    sizes,    dancing, 

dozing,  clamoring,  shy, 
Strown,   as   if  on  waves   of  vapors,   shored  afar   in 

searchless  sky  ! 


A    POEM.  21 

XVIII. 

Soon   she  named,  about  the    forest,  forms  :  —  some   * 

boldly  faced,  some  fled  — 
Snow-white  Nixies,  with    pink    Pixies,  pilfer 'd   from 

lone  baby  bed  : 
Jinn   and    Shedeem,  mask'd   and    capering,  wild    as 

clowns  in  circus  rings  : 
Peris,  giddy  with   full    fragrance,  flirting    down    on 

dove-like  wings : 
Then,   below  them,  Neck   and   Kelpie,    match'd   to 

deluge  plump  Storm-Karl : 
Drakes,  a-see-saw  rill-rockt  lilies,  dodging  from  the 

Merman's  snarl : 
Drunk  Leprechaun,  dash'd  for  brogue,  and  tussling 

with  each  huger  swell, 
As    he    split    the    laughing  waters   in   a   love-warpt 

fairy-bell : 
On  the  ledges  Dwarfs  a-droning,  and,  seduced  from 

secret  cave, 
Duergar,  the  little  scamp,  with   mien  as  scrimpt  as 

gold  he  gave  ! 
Deevs,  beneath  thick  horns    and  eyebrows,  envying 

Korred's  shaggy  head : 
Ruths,    and    Throlls,    and    Trows,    in    gray   green, 

tossing  pigmy  caps  of  red : 
Greeting   shrunken  sly  Hobgoblins,  hitch'd  to  half 

the  cellar's  ware  : 

Danish  Nis,  and  Gallic  Latin,  all  of  Bedlam  crowd 
ing  there : 

Brownie,  brave  by  plaid  and  thistle  !  Cobalt,  bloom 
ing  big  with  beer ! 


22  CHOOSING,: 

Braggart  snobs,  astride  a  lion  —  whelp,  you'd  know, 
of  some  new  peer  ! 

And  the  Elves,  like  wintry  smoke,  a-wheel  to  Hog- 
folk's  low  refrain  ; 

Or,  detected,  swiftly  skulking  toward  the  bolstering 
leaves  amain ! 

XIX. 

But  I  turn'd  to  stranger  marvel: — just  beyond  my 

finger's  end, 
Lilted  near   the  weest  wonder   that   could   bid   the 

eyelids  bend! 
One  might  deem  it  a  stray  snow-flake,  sliding  down 

the  thin  star-rays  : 
Truth  reveal'd  a  cunning  chariot,  fill'd  with  cheery 

little  fays; 
And  up  through  the  shifting   atoms  of  the  air  that 

lay  between 
Oozed  a  tiny  ditty,  tuning   from  within   its    sheeny 

screen. 

xx. 

"  To-night,  to-night,  my  fairies  white, 

We'll  rig  a  jolly  spree  ! 
But  first  a  tune  to  tease  the  Moon  — 

She's  pointing  there  you  see  ! 
Ho  !   ho  !  who'd  own  that  dewy  throne, 

Or  tent  the  spider  weaves  ? 
Ho  !   ho !   who'd  go  where  roses  grow, 

Or  romp  the  springy  leaves  ? 
Her  tinsel  Tags  may  flirt  and  play, 
Till  all  the  calyx  crush  away! 

Who  cares  ?  —  I  dont !  —  Do  you  ? 


A   POEM.  23 

"  But  there's  a  maid  whom  Love  has  laid  — 

Ha  !   ha  !   a  dainty  bit !  — 
Aboard  a  dream,  with  brain  a-scream  ! 

Queen  Mab  's  a  wicked  wit ! 
Come  !   come  !   a  jump  !  and  land  a-thump  ! 

To  dance  about  her  heart ! 
'Twill  beat  and  beat ;  ha !  ha  !  how  sweet ! 

My  soles  are  all  a-smart ! 
We'll  tickle  her  neck,  and  tickle  her  toes, 
And  tickle  her  little  lips  under  her  nose !  — 

Who  cares  ?  —  I  don't !  —  Do  you  ? 

"  That  mourner  grim,  we'll  bother  him. 

He  tugs  too  stiff  a  brow  ! 
We'll  whiz  and  whiz  about  his  phiz, 

And  twit  the  mouth,  I  vow  : 
Then  hide  and  seek  in  hair  so  sleek, 

And  down  the  wrinkles  spare  ; 
And  ply  his  eye,  if  dry,  too  dry, 

And  slide  the  lashes  there  ; 
And  when  big  drops  begin  to  flow, 
How  we  will  dodge  the  flood,  oh  ho  ! 

Who  cares  ?  —  I  don't !  —  Do  you  ? 

"  Hurrah  !  for  peep  of  Earth  asleep  ! 

We'll  twist  things,  ere  we're  flown  ! 
The  sire  shall  be  a  baby  wee  : 

The  lass  a  lad  alone  : 
The  parson  mad  :  the  plagued  a-glad  : 

The  beaus  a  balky  team  : 
And  when  they  wake,  oh !  how  they'll  shake 

To  find  it  all  a  dream ! 
They'll  think  of  wind,  and  fly,  and  flea  ; 
But  not  of  you  !  and  not  of  me  ! 

Who  cares  ?  —  I  don't !  —  Do  you  ?  " 


24  CHOOSING  : 

XXI. 

Charm'd  to  hear,  I  bent   me    nearer ;   but,  dismay ! 

off  dodged  the  toy, 
Shaken,  like  a  note  of  laughter,  down  the  stiffening 

breath  of  joy. 
"Cruel  thing!"  cried  I,  provoked  then:  "Witchery 

of  condensed  delight !  • 
Big  Earth   all    too  weak   to   find    it,  what  an  insult 

to  the  sight !  " 

XXII. 

Soon  I  mused :  this  whole  odd  vision  might  be  an 

imagined  one  : 
Men    had    deem'd    full   half  life's  fabric,  forms,  fry 

fever'd  Fancy  spun. 
"  Are  all  vain,"  at  length  I    question'd ;    "  do   men 

dream  thus,  year  on  year, 
See  and  hear,  yet  no  real  footsteps,  naught  to  rouse 

the  eye  or  ear  ?  " 
"  Men  who  live  by  sight,"  she  answer'd,  "  doubt  it ; 

but  no  doubt  can  sear 

Back  of  proof  a   live   conviction,  that  some  Spirit- 
world  is  near : 
And  men  feel  it,  all  alone,  and  when  the  midnight 

hour  is  pass'd, 
And  they  feel  it  when  uprightness  bends  before  too 

pressing  blast: 
Conscience !  'tis  the  soul's  sensorium  ;  God  reveal'd 

to  consciousness  : 
And  remorse  !    the    sinner   cringing  from  the  touch 

of  Holiness. 


A   POEM.  25 

XXIII. 

"  There    is    One,    the    heart    knows    truly,   nor    has 

heard  of  Him  alone, 
But  of  ranks,  which  grade  all  Being,  upward  toward 

the  silent  Throne, 
Powers  !  —  But   they  usurp   no  worship  !     Evil  only 

would  parade 
Aught  between  the  world's  Creator  and  the  smallest 

creature  made. 
And  the  evil  ?    Ah  !  remember,  when  men  overcome 

through  prayer, 
Not   with    flesh    and    blood    they  wrestle,   but  with 

powers  which  rule  the  air ! 
Helpt,    far   more   than    ofttimes    conscious,    by  that 

Life  which,  all  unseen, 
Whirls  the  star,  and  waves  the  sea,  and  works  the 

most  self-govern'd  mien  ; 

And  can  send,  for  rare  communion,  clothed  in  rai 
ment  all  too  white 
For  the  ken  of  mortal  vision,  those  who  force  the 

fiend  to  flight." 

XXIV. 

We  had  left  that  field  of  fancy,  and  had  reach'd  a 

star-lit  lawn, 
And  beyond  its  nether  borders,  Vapors,  pallid  from 

near  dawn, 
Cling  about  a  crystal  temple,  rising  from  an  ocean 

black, 
Pure  and  restful  pledge  of  promise,  past  the  moody 

waves'  attack. 


2  6  CHOOSING : 

Now  we  sail  the  mist-flung  waters,  cheer'd  to  watch 

where  Clouds  release, 
Pedestal  and  pediment,  and   then   entablature   and 

frieze. 
Darting  'neath  high  pearly  pendants,  and  the  great 

towers'  jasper  quoin, 
We  alight  at  lofty  steps,  and    ranks   of  gold-mail'd 

wardens  join  ; 
Who,  in  stately  silence  parting,  'twixt  the  long  lines 

pass  us  on 
Toward    the   shimmering  shields    and    sabres    of   a 

phantom  garrison  ; 
And    the  -  towering  portico,  a  cliff  of   shafts,  which 

far  upheaves, 
Till    the   very    heavens    seem    suspended    from    its 

lordly  eaves, 
Drooping  with   thin    starry  mantle,   deep    below  all 

mezzanine, 
Whence  aspiring  Clouds,  exhausted,  seek,  with  zest* 

the  fretful  Brine. 

XXV. 

At   its    base    a    sire  with    thin   locks    gray  through 

many  a  distant  year, 
Gazing  'neath  the  columns  calmly,  questions,  as  we 

venture  near  : 
"  Who   is   this   you    bring,  my  sister,  who    is    this  ? 

Ah,  yes  !   I  trace 
Restless   eyes   and    flushing   cheeks    here ;    yes,  ah 

yes,  an  earthly  face  !  " 
"One  more  youth,  whose  aspiration,  as  I  rode  full 

high  at  eve, 


A    POEM.  27 

Craved  for  light ;  and,  aided  hither,  would  not  now 

the  portal  leave." 
"Aspiration,"   quoth    he,    mildly;    "many    a   bitter, 

bitter  Woe 
Is    begot    by  Aspiration.      There   are   easier   paths 

below. 
He's  the  happy  man  who  carries  head   not  higher 

than  his  home, 
'Tis  right  hard  to   stoop  forever !     But  I  keep  you 

from  the  Dome." 

XXVI. 

At  his  bid,  then,  two,  approaching,  quick  equipt  me 

as  a  knight : 
And  they  whisper'd,  as  they  left  me  —  "  Faith  alone 

can  win  the  Light !  " 
When,  at  once,  wide  gates   before   us   open'd,  with 

a  blaze  of  day, 
And  disclosed  a  hall  resplendent,  sweeping  through 

long  leagues  away  : 
All  about  hung  heavy  incense,  floating  back  to  dim 

saloons, 
Where  half-hidden  lamps  swung  star-like  round  the 

base  of  rare  cassoons  : 
And  dumb,  caryatic  figures,  and  chill  columns,  nude 

of  wall, 
Filed    far    off,    like    mighty   sentries    waiting    for    a 

funeral. 
Through    the   clouds,  which   parted  often,  gleam'd, 

anon,  mysterious  bands : 
And,  from   plinth    to    giant   groin,  resounded    then, 

in  low  demands  : 


28  CHOOSING: 


XXVII. 
"  Come  to  the  Love,  that  is  coming  now, 

Come  from  the  world  away ; 
Come  to  the  source  of  joy,  and  bow, 

Bow  to  the  sweetest  sway: 
Love  !   for  the  wish  that  earth  deceives  ; 
Love  !  for  the  deed  that  goads  and  grieves  ; 
Love  !  for  the  Heaven  the  soul  receives ; 
Love  !    and  woe  will  away. 

"  Come  to  the  Truth,  that  is  coming  now, 

Come  from  the  world  away ; 
Come  to  the  source  of  right,  and  bow, 

Bow  to  the  wisest  sway  : 
Truth  !  for  the  thought  that  fails  and  fears  ; 
Truth !  for  the  deed  that  lives  all  years  ; 
Truth!  for  the  Heaven  that  ever  cheers; 

Truth !  and  doubt  will  away. 

"Come  to  Love  and  the  Truth,  attend, 

Come  where  Life  's  begun  ; 
Whatever  the  source,  whatever  the  end, 

Joy  and  the  right  are  one. 
Love!  and  the  Truth  shall  brighter  grow. 
Truth !  and  Love  shall  warmer  glow. 
Love  with  Truth!  and  the  soul  shall  know 

Christ !  and  the  holy  way. 

"  Come  to  Love  and  the  Truth,  attend, 

Come  where  Life  's  begun  ; 
Whatever  the  source,  whatever  the  end, 

Life  and  living  are  one  ! 
Love !  with  a  zeal  that  ne'er  can  rest, 
Truth  of  the  path  that  brings  the  best ! 
Love  with  Truth  the  home  of  the  blest ! 

God  !  and  an  endless  day  !  " 


A   POEM.  29 

XXVIII. 

As  the  anthem  ceast,  —  ah  !    music  of  such  import 

has  no  death  ! 
Evermore  the  tones  refresh  us,  like  a  draft  of  angel 

breath  !  — 
As    it  ceast,  I  sigh'd    instinctive  —  "Would   that    I 

such  bliss  could  share  !  " 
When,  behold,  high,  high  uplifted,  I  was  borne  along 

the  air, 
On,  and  on,  with  slippery  swiftness,  sliding  still  to 

swifter  flight ; 
Where    the    tall,    white    columns     stalk    past,    like 

gigantic  ghosts  of  night ! 
Where  the  arches   fall   and  heave  up,  like  the  soul 

of  some  lost  Sea  ! 
Where    the    lamps    streak   by,  a-quiver !  —  lines    of 

morning  on  the  lea ! 
Till  came  dawns  of  growing  splendor  !  jambs,  which 

burn'd  all  nearer  air  ! 

Quick  degrees  of  soft  arresting !  and  a  broad  ro 
tunda  there  ! 

XXIX. 

Broad  it  was,  and  high,  and  builded,  lavish  of  the 
wealth  of  space, — 

As  all  else  had  been,  —  a  marvel,  even  in  that  won 
drous  place  ! 

Such  a  sight  Creation's  Dawning  saw,  when,  out 
infinity, 

Morning  mists  exhaled  to  mingle  with  the  azure, 
that  should  be : 


3°  CHOOSING: 

Each  diverse  abaculus,  as  bright  of  gleam,  as  Chaos- 
mere  ! 

Every  torus  pure  and  perfect,  grand  as  embryonic 
sphere  ! 

Then,  with  lines  of  earthly  beauty,  but  recall'd  to 
canonize, 

Pillars,  rivalling  resurrection,  soar'd  to  meet  resent- 
less  skies. 

Far  above,  the  fickle  flutings  merged  in  spectral 
capitals  : 

And,  within  the  shadowy  volute,  hover'd  hosts  of 
terminals ; 

Things  of  life  or  carved,  I  knew  not,  but,  to  my 
confused  suspense, 

They  were  holy  from  high  distance  :  and  I  bow'd 
in  reverence. 

xxx. 

Underneath   the   great   dome's  centre  rose  a  form, 

most   like  a  throne, 
With    bright    outlines    scarce    distinguish'd,    for    a 

Cloud  reign'd  there  alone. 
And  about  its   base  an  altar   stretch'd,  environing  j 

a  mound, 
White;    and    reach'd    by    steps    stupendous,    grown 

like  coral  from  the  ground, 
Toward  the  sides,  where  bulky  panels  sank  to  grasp, 

'mid  shifting  smoke, 
Figures  !  —  whence  ?  —  what   life,  when  carved,  had 

loom'd  to  guide  their  sculptor's   stroke  ? 
Whose?  —  that  course  disclosed,  as   if   quick    sight 

itself  did  petrify 


A   POEM.  3.1 

Forms  of  bliss,  which  bend  and  point  for  one  who 

hardly  yet  can  spy; 
Lands  which  lure  to  peerless  grandeur  o'er  an  ocean 

rough  and  bare  ; 
Harbors  near,  whence  crowds  entice,  past  rocks  and 

wrecks  just  hidden  there  ; 
Ruder    seas    still  wrestled    bravely,  worn   to   weary 

calm  awhile ; 
And  a  cleared  expanse  of  beauty  greeting  him  who 

scans  to  smile  • 
Then   low  storms   on   harsh   horizon,  brooding  woe 

with  darkening  frown ; 
And    beyond,   large  heavenly  mountains,  where  the 

tempests  cringe  adown  ;  — 

XXXI. 

Whose  ?  —  But  cloud  fell  covering  these  scenes  :   it 

was  offspring  of  the  fire 
Living  on  the   shrine,  and   lighting   all    the    dome  ; 

nor  then  to  tire  ; 
Still  uhspent,  I  saw  it  press  beyond  through  aisles, 

'as  bright  as  noon, 
Startling  thence,  from  far  retirement,  many  a  strange 

seductive  boon, 
Shapes   on   walls  by  Fresco   fabled,  myths   reveal'd 

to  reverent  eyes  ;  — 
What    chill    marble    had    congeal'd,    clear    rills    of 

thought  from  Paradise. 
Endless  seem'd  these   aisles !    and  countless  !    built 

to  meet,  around  the  dome> 
Radiated    light,    far-glancing,    like    the    dawn   from 

ocean  foam ! 


32  CHOOSING: 

XXXII. 

Then  came  statement,  that   "The  aisles,  I  watch'd 

with  wish  so  masterless, 
Held    high    limners'  recollections  of   the    hosts    of 

holiness  ; 
Who,    on    earth,   pursued    right   purpose  ;    follow'd, 

constant  to  the  tomb  ; 
Enter'd  that ;  and  thence,  emerging,  rested  -past  all 

realms  of  doom. 
Truth  had  no  one  mould  for  virtue  ;   if  I  wish'd,  I 

might  select 

Any  course,  and  might  explore  it :    and,  when  dis 
tant,  could  detect 
What    awaits    the    one  who    trusts    such,  when,    of 

meaner  means  bereft, 
Life  is  summon'd  to  move   forward,  with  the  Spirit 

only  left." 
So    directed,  I  walk'd  onward,  reason    lambent   by 

the  glare 
Of  designs,  so  dense  and  diverse,  some  I  marvell'd 

should  be  there, 
For  they  seem'd  too  fraught  with   pleasure  ;    and  I 

pass'd,  without  debate  ; 
Sweet  to  'mort  exhaustion  only  are  the  drafts,  which 

recreate. 

XXXIII. 

But,    erelong,    I    came   to   opening,  where  a   toilful 

wealth  of  walls 
Told  of  memory  of  marts  ;  and  far-exalting  council 

halls ; 


A    POEM.  33 

Where  low  throngs  of  coaches,  winding  'neath  wide 

elms  toward  mansions  bold, 
And  bow'd,  venerating  faces   symbolized  the  worth 

of  gold. 
"  Truth,"  thought  I,  "  needs  place  to  prosper ;  and 

all  earth  obeys  the  voice, 
That    commands    earth's    richest    treasure  :    I    will 

make  the  gold  my  choice." 
Quick    as    thinking   this,  I   enter'd,  and,  a  moment 

more,  did  stray 
Through    a    scene    of    wild    enchantment !    it    was 

Blessing's  holiday ! 
But,  beyond  that,  twilights  gather'd ;    sallow  waned 

the  painted  joys  ; 
'Mid  the  shades  gloom'd  vice  and  sickness,  coffins, 

ghosts,  and  gambling  boys  ! 
Rose  a  roar  of  floods  before  me  1    sight  and  sound 

for  horror  vied ! 
And    I    turn'd,    a-shudder!    nowhere,  nowhere,  now, 

was  light  to  guide  I 
Far  seduced  thus  from  the    altar,  long  I  sought  it, 

faint  with   fear, 
Ere  I  spied,  then,  pondering,  wonder'd  how  it  was 

I  lost  me  here? 
What   all  meant  —  first  woe  ?    then  darkness  ?    and, 

so  thinking,  it  did  seem 
Death  was    blackness    and    a    night,  where    earthly 

glitter  does  not  dream. 

xxxiv. 

Free  from  this,  an  aisle    allured,  so  bright  I  could 
but  make  it  mine  ! 
3 


34  CHOOSING: 

There  were  books  whence  youth  collected  clean-cut 

precepts,  line  on  line  ; 
And,  with  pensive  power  embodied,  life  breathed  in 

by  Godlier  men, 
Matter,  magnetized  by  touch  of  nervy  chisel,  brush 

and  pen. 
To  my  joy,  the  whitest  statues  lined  the  hall  ;  o'er 

each  was  crown 
Set  with  gems ;   and  these  held  light  which  shined 

the  whole  far  space  adown. 
"  Here,"  cried  I,  "  is  what  is  wanted  !     Why  was  I 

so  blind  before  ? 
Here's  the  distance  all  illumined  !  "  and  I  hasten'd 

to  explore. 
Grandly,  then,  the  glowing   statues   rose   along  the 

lengthening  aisle  ; 
And    dreams,  wing'd    as    by  their    spirits,  bore    me 

past  my  years  the  while, 
Dreams  of  self,  as  ne'er  forgotten,  but    in    younger 

memory  still 
Throned  a  living  Recollection,  sceptred    o'er    some 

future  Will ! 
Life  !    life  !    life  !  —  deny  it   not,  —  we're    made    for 

Immortality  ! 
Claims,  which    in    the    heart    swell    largest,  look  to 

longest  destiny ! 
While  I  moved,  unseen,  the  jewels  stole  and  spent 

each  other's  light, 
Introducing    dusk    to    darkness,  dodging   doubt    to 

crawling  night. 
Then   cold   mists    arose    embracing,  and   again  the 

waters  black 


A   POEM.  35 

Hiss'd  behind  the  tired  amazement,  slowly  stumbling 
toward  the  track. 

"  Ah  !  "  sigh'd  I,  "  those  crowns  !  —  that  brilliance 
burns  but  by  a  borrow'd  might : 

Stars  themselves  could  guide  us  never  were  the 
light  less  Infinite. 

All  that  brightness  lost  in  wandering  !  —  there's  but 
one  source,  whence  it  came. 

Arts  ingenious  catch  and  glance  it,  but  the  dia 
mond's  not  the  Flame  !  " 

xxxv. 

This  time,  when  I  reach'd  the  great  dome,  I  re 
in  ain'd  somewhile  doubt-bound, 

Pledged  to  lengthy  test,  ere  trusting  any  hall,  what 
ever  found  j 

But  near  by  was  place  where  many  linger'd  work 
ing,  and  I  thought 

That  less  lonely  ;  and  I  spied,  too,  those,  far  off, 
with  lights,  who  wrought. 

So  I  paused  and  watch'd  one,  sketching  what  snug, 
slumbering  Water  dreams 

Of  the  noiseless  Clouds,  attending  slender  wants 
of  suckling  Streams  : 

Flowers  dependent,  wait  beside  it :  then  mild  vales 
of  misty  green 

Reach  to  tops  of  Heaven-high  mountains  :  —  there 
are  some  white  shrouds  between  :  — 

And,  one  side,  where  summer  meadows  melt  to 
yield  the  golden  grain, 

From  full  school-house,  lads  and  maidens  throng  to 
aid  tired  farmer  swain  : 


3  6  CHOOSING: 

Nigh  to  them  are  chariots  waiting,  and  a  sire  from 

work  doth  rise, 
Greeting  Princes  from  far  city,  with  diploma  for  the 

wise. 
"  General    learning !    honor'd    labor !    here,"  said    I, 

"  is  equity : 
Here    truth    ripens    into    duty  —  in    the    land,    like 

nature,  free  ! 
And,  as  long   as   good    lives,  must  live   that  which 

every  joy  (oreran, 
Love   humane  !    too  Godly  high   for    slight   of   him 

whom  God  made  man  1  " 
Where  so   many  work'd  I  enter'd  :    they  did  lessen 

one  by  one. 
And  upon  the  walls  ?  —  Zeal  crowding,  hinted  hatred  ! 

strife  begun  ! 

Wrong   that    raged  !    and   track'd    a  better  !    revo 
lution,  past  reform  ! 
Bringing  sword  !    flame  !    smoke  !    destruction  !   and 

again  light  died  in  storm  ! 
Deeply  sad  was  my  despair   now  :    I    could    try  no 

other  aisle : 
But  I  sat  me  down    and  wept,  to  think  that  Love, 

too,  could  beguile. 

xxxvi. 

Yet,  at  last,  my  heart,  still  anxious,  moved  me  one 

more  course  to  seek  ; 
And    I    turn'd    first    toward    the    altar,   there,  when 

courage  dared  to  speak, 
Faintly  questioning,  "  Oh,  tell  me,  is  there  not  some 

way  all  bright  ?  " 


A   POEM.  37 


"  Yes,"  said  One,  "  and  they  who  find  it,  find  what 
cannot  end  in  blight." 

Then,  I  thought,  if  in  all  reason  be  but  one  supe 
rior  Choice, 

Surely  it  could  tarry  never,  summon'd  by  so  kind 
a  voice  ! 

And,  I  cried,  "Oh!  Being  Blessed,  if  an  endless 
home  this  be, 

Only  breathe  one  word  to  aid  me ;  I  will  ever 
serve  but  Thee  !  " 

XXXVII. 

He  replied,  then,  "  Are  you  kneeling  ?  well  for  those 

who  kneel  in  youth. 
Self-reliance  falls   in   failure,  but  the   humbled    rise 

with  truth. 
Yet    dream    not    for  gleams    of   wisdom,  lightening 

everything  before  : 
For  advance  of  one   still  finite,  there  must  still  be 

waiting  more. 
Only  signals  can  be  given,  these    attended,  by-and- 

by, 

Through  the  pure,  white  air  of  heaven,  shall  emerge 
much  mystery." 

XXXVIII. 

With  these  words  an  altar    Server,  at  the  glance  of 

His  desire, 
Brought  a  ring,  where,  like  a  brilliant,  burn'd  light 

from  the  Holy  Fire, 
And  upon  my  finger  placed  it,  saying,  "  Everything's 

your  own  !  " 


38  CHOOSING : 

* 
Choose  the  way  that  seems   the   brightest !    choose 

and  act  —  as  all  —  alone  !  " 
Nearest  was   the    aisle    of  riches ;   and,    when    far 

within,  behold 
That  which  shades  had  render'd  woeful !    'twas  the 

very  Heaven  of  gold  ! 
And  the  floods  that  I  had  fear'd  so  !  —  waters  at  the 

temple's  side 
Weirdly   bright!    with    still    more    beauteous,    near 

shores  luring  o'er  their  tide ! 
And  the  other  aisles  ?  —  their  story  was  the  same  ! 

Ah  me  !    'tis  strange 
How  the  lights  we  carry  with  us  make   the   scenes 

about  us  change ! 

XXXIX. 

After   Truth,    thus    far    discover'd,  as  I  sought    the 

shrine  once  more, 
Forms  of  glory  gather'd  round  me,  thousands  there 

not  seen  before  ! 

Bright  they  were  to  indistinctness  !    and  bright  rai 
ment  gave  they  me  : 
And  within   the  folds  were  jewels    it   had    dazzled 

Noon  to  see  ! 
And  my  whole  soul  felt  the  nearness  of  that  Love 

which  lives  with  rest, 
Free  of  faith,  and  full  of  welcome,  from  communion 

of  the  Blest. 
Then,  anon,  I  found  me  joining  in  desire,  aroused 

awhile 
By  far  stars,  whence  souls   untiring  seek  the  limits 

which  exile. 


A   POEM.  39 

Last,    at    sight   of   one    just   dawning,   breathed    a 

thought  of  harmony, 
Sweet  with  all  Love's  Spirit-substance,  melting  forth 

to  melody ! 

XL. 

"  See,  along  the  azure  creeping, 
See  the  World!   its  ransom  reaping, 
Leaving  sinning,  glory  winning, 

Through  the  ever  brightening  way. 
Oh  for  Bliss,  the  deeds  of  duty 
Rival  boldest  boast  of  beauty  ! 
Onward  wend  :  with  steadfast  spinning, 

Learn  to  turn  a  perfect  day. 

Work  cannot  be  dark  for  aye. 

Woes  but  roll  to  roll  away. 

"  World  of  Faith,  the  years  are  dying, 
Wherein  clouds  about  thee  lying 
Robe  a  wondrous  waste  of  sighing, 

Empty  throes  of  vain  unrest. 
Be  life  right,  whate'er  now  bearing, 
Right  endures,  when  wrong  is  wearing  : 
Right  remains,  when  shrouds  are  tearing : 

Faith  receives  a  full  bequest ; 

Wrestles  through  its  prayer  for  rest ; 

Dwells  with  Good,  a  constant  guest  ! 

"  World  ,of  Hope,  all  power  provoking, 
Reign  of  Light,  all  life  invoking, 
Cheers  thee  on.     Tho'  gloom  thy  cloaking, 

Girt  it  is  with  rainbow  belt. 
Days,  when  sun  and  soil  are  blending, 
Golden  threads  from  heaven  wending, 
Knit  a  wealth  of  thought  extending 

Round  about  for  promise  dealt. 
Night !  it  blest  the  soul  who  felt, 
'Twas  a  star  in  which  he  knelt! 


40  CHOOSING : 

"  World  of  Love,  Heaven  bends  above  thee 
Fear  not  clouds  ;  it  can  but  love  thee. 
Cherish'd  child,  if  care  is  galling, 

Transient  care  is  endless  gain. 
Oh  there's  growth  of  fadeless  power, 
Nursed  by  Vapors  hour  on  hour  ! 
Soon  the  time  shall  come,  recalling 

No  experience  sent  in  vain. 

Fruit !  'tis  that  which  fills  the  plain 

When  the  stormy  seasons  wane  ! 

"  Onward  World,  move  onward  ever ! 
Love  can  be  the  loser  never  : 
Truth  and  Error  soon  shall   sever  : 

Onward  press  thy  mission  through  ! 
Holy  Deeds  thy  dangers  lighten  ! 
Holy  Words  thy  wisdom  righten  ! 
Holy  Scenes,  they  come  to  brighten  ! 

Angel  wings  thy  way  pursue  ! 

Powers  Divine  direct  anew ! 

Peace  is  dawning  down  the  blue  ! " 


XLI. 

Round  and  round  me  swell 'd  the  chorus,  like  a 
spring  to  cleanse  all  space  : 

Widest  waves,  it  seem'd  to  lift  me,  down  !  down  ! 
down  !  I  fell  apace. 

Then,  while  suddenly  the  prospect  broaden'd  out, 
one  blazing  sea, 

Startling  into  vague  awaking,  lo  !  those  dear  delu 
sions  flee  ! 

Modest  Sleep,  that  mused  so  sweetly,  'neath  that 
star-gemm'd  canopy, 

Had  been  borne  far  down  the  west;  and,  pledged 
to  ceaseless  constancy, 


A   POEM.  41 

Follow'd  Day,  in  burnish'd  armor,  and  with  suite, 
all  worn  by  fight, 

Still  to  search,  and  search  for  ever  for  the  shrink 
ing  forms  of  Night. 

"  Yes  !  'tis  dawn  !  it's  killed  my  dreaming  !  "  sigh'd 
I,  as  in  dew  and  rill, 

All  the  van  of  early  Sunbeams  shot  reflections  from 
the  hill. 

"  But  a  dream  !  "  I  moan'd.  Then,  rousing,  Thought 
essay'd,  as  if  to  find 

Whither  turn'd  those  phantom  feet,  that  left  such 
sunny  track  behind. 

XLII. 

And  !  —  oh  blest   frank   trust   of  boyhood  !     When 

the  soul's  young  spring  wells  high  ; 
When,    within    its    depth   is   mirror'd    life    reflected 

from  the  sky  ; 
Blest  the  faith  in  that  life  mirror'd,  tho'  from  hight, 

one  cannot  scan  ; 
Blest    the    faith,  that,  with   corruption,  man  alloy'd, 

remains  a  man  ! 
Yes  !  if  always  strive  His  Spirit,  till  all  floods  o'er- 

whelm  the  clod, 

Infidelity  to  self  is  infidelity  to  God  ! 
Perfidy  to  deeper  nature,  where,  amid  abounding  ill, 
Love,    the    magnet    strong    for    loving,    finds    some 

truth  incarnate  still  ; 
Truth,  diffused   through   high   and   humble,    finitely 

for  finite  par ; 
Yielding  each  a  part  alone,  however  bright,  whoe'er 

they  are ! 


CHOOSING  : 
XLIII. 

And   the   whole  ?  —  it    would   grow   plainer,    could 

contentious  Zeal  advance, 
Where  impartial  Wisdom  questions  e'en  the  portion 

of  Romance. 
It    may    be,    more    right    is    gather'd    through    the 

glance,  too  wild  of  scheme, 
Than  where  stupid,  prim  Compliance  nods  and  naps, 

without  a  dream. 
It  may  be,  more  right's  imparted  through  the  love, 

too  free  of  trust, 
Than  where  mad  Intolerance  gags  a  pleading  Doubt, 

with  naught  discust 
Men,  who   rouse   to   revolution,   choosing   stop  and 

key  to  press, 
Sweep  their  chords  to  swell  a  passion,  pent  in  every 

consciousness. 
Men,  who  range  for  reformation,  fail  of  victory,  till 

they  see 
Both  the  Truth  array'd  against  them,  and  the  Lie  ! 

for  Charity, 
First    in    logic,    as    in    worship,    leads    the    mind's 

triumphant  train  ! 

Follow  Christ !    ere  Aristotle  !    sway  the   power   be 
low  the  brain  ! 

XLIV. 
Earth  is  man's  ;  but  Eden  God's,  which  schemes  that 

lost  cannot  restore  : 
Stretch'd  for  gods,  men  dwarf  to  devils !    Time  to 

trust  to  nature  more  ! 


A   POEM.  43 

Seek  from  friend  and  from  opponent,  truth  obtain'd 

with  candid  eye, 
Pure   philosophy,    supported   by   some   part,    which 

each  supply, 
Pillars   this   side,   pillars  that   side,   all    for   temple 

rear'd  to  God, 
Let  it  rise,  till  light  from  Heaven  cap  acquirements 

of  the  sod ! 
There,  the   saint  and   sage   together,  at   the   shrine 

of  faith  shall  bend  ; 
And  the  boons   of  better  living  round   the  dimless 

dome  extend. 

XLV. 

Truth  is  broad  but  man  is  finite.  Wide  as  wish, 
the  worldly  call ; 

Wide  as  worlds,  the  cry  for  helpers,  but  one  can 
not  turn  to  all. 

Love,  when  souls  are  truthful  only,  trusts  for  ray 
of  Higher  Light, 

Friend  for  worth,  and  foe  for  weakness,  and  its 
self,  to  prompt  aright ! 

With  the  least  light,  what  remaineth  ?  If  a  twinkle 
for  an  aim, 

What  but  work  despite  disaster  ?  work,  to  save  the 
wish  from  blame  ? 

Perfect  methods,  sure  of  wisdom,  no  experience 
can  attain  : 

Faith,  the  source  and  sum  of  struggle,  bringing 
failure,  brings  to  gain  : 

He,  alone^  can  hope  to  prosper,  who,  to  reach  per 
ceptions  rare, 


44  CHOOSING:    A   POEM. 

Bravely  girds,  and  ventures   on,  to   be  !   to  do  !    at' 
least  to  dare  ! 

XLVI. 

What  was  my  work  ?     Toward  the  heaven  morning 

clouds  rose  brightening  there  ; 
Toward  the  heaven,  thought  rose  brightening,  first 

to  faith,  and  then  to  prayer  ! 
Ere  it  ceast,  the  farm  call  sounded  ;  and  I  sprung, 

as  oft  of  yore  ; 
-    But,  along  the  well-plow'd  hillocks,  moved  a  Power, 

unfelt  before  ; 
And  the  wayward  Whims  of  boyhood  eagerly  flock'd 

round  to  scan, 
Where  the  Child,  who  dream'd  at  evening,  went,  at 

morn,  to  be  the  Man. 


RE. 


NEXT  young  among  the  voluntary  scribes  — 
Were  one  to  judge  by  tones  of  voice  alone  — 
Was  a  born  prince  of  all  authority. 
Had  he  no  right  to  it  ?     Oft  would  friends  say 
That  "  if  the  boy  could  wait,  gain  gentleness, 
He  might  grow  a  wise  gentleman  ;  besides, 
Force,  force  was  something,  and  he  had  force  now ; 
So  if"  —  of  course  no  joke,  but  then  it  pleased  — 
That  if — like  Wisdom's  best  joke,  all  the  town; 
Threw  up  his  mother's  head,  his  sweetheart's  down, 
And  tipt  his  rivals,  like  the  winning  yacht 
Just  rounding,  with  a  last  lurch,  at  the  goal. 
Still,  stormy,  thunder-lightning-zeal  had  he, 
Bursting  like  bustling  winds  that   blow  in  spring, 
To  fright,  with  death-white  frost,  life-color'd  flowers, 
And  wreck  each  sail  that  dare  presume  for  aid. 
'Twas  said  one  fairly  gasp'd  to  hear  him  read  — 
His  way  to  triumph  !  once  sway'd  by  that  speed, 
Still  faster  endward  each  did  wish  he'd  speed. 
All  gave  the  self-pleased  boy  what  you  have  seen, 
Taxt  like  their  mirrors  still  and  still  to  heed, 
Nice  men  give  —  asking  naught  from  —  girls,  young  too. 


POEM   SECOND. 


DARING. 


LO,   long    and    lonely,   stretch'd    o'er    hill    and 
dale, 

Wrapt  in  her  misty  robe,  reclines  the  Night  ; 
No  cloud,  no  leaf  a-stir  ;  moon  small  and  pale  ; 
And    stars    scarce   twinkling    through    the    frosty 

light. 

Earth  sleeps  ;  save  that  about  the  sea  shore  white 
Weak  Waves  are  whispering  of  some  distant  Gales  ; 

And  timid  insects,  bold  where  none  affright, 
Whose  hearts  out-beat  their  fear,  lisp  loving  tales, 
Secrets  they  dare  not  breathe  while  Sunbeams  scout 
the  vales. 

ir. 

But  hark  !  'mid  stillness  now  a  nervous  tread 
Steals  on  the  dews,  a-shiver   through  the  grass. 

What  form,  pursued  by  what  presaging  dread, 
Speeds  to  escape  this  innocent  morass  ? 
It  is  a  youth  whose  eager  mien,  alas, 

Bespeaks  desire  too  deep  for  doubtful  years. 


48  DARING : 

Anon  he  pauses,  and  through  tiny  glass 
Far  backward  scans  ;  then,  tho'  no  life  appears, 
Anon,  with  haste  renew'd,  hies  from  renewing  fears. 


He  flies  from  home  ;  not  first  nor  last,  I  ween, 

Forsaking  friends  for  Midnight's  chill   embrace : 
Not  first  nor  last  whom  dawning  day  has  seen 

A  wanderer,  stay'd  by  no  familiar  face. 

Say  Homes  bereaved  !    can    long   years    e'er   dis 
place 
The  melancholy  vacancy  of  hours 

When   memory  strays  aback,  with    painful  pace, 
Whither  life  bloom'd  to  promise  such  sweet  flowers, 
Ere  one  harsh  storm   snapt  off  the  buds  that  blest 
your  bowers  ? 

IV. 

Ah  sad  to  find  the  germ  of  love  and  care 

Grow  but  to  sting  the  hand  that  would  caress  ! 
Still  sadder  the  lone  dearth  of  that  despair 

No  more  retaining  life  it  would  redress  ! 

Yet,    here,  one  hope  remains,  —  that,  when  some 

stress 
Of  needful  years  provoke  to  earnest  plan, 

A  headstrong  will,  in  youth  so  masterless, 
May  rouse,  with  sovereign  power  to  sway  his  clan, 
From  mood  with  spirit   high,  inspiring  strength  for 
man. 


A  POEM.  49 

V. 
Think  not  a  paltry  purpose  stirr'd  the  soul 

Of  him  now  hastening  o'er  this  dusky  plain. 
His  was  a  youth  whence  fancy  spied  a  goal 

For  good  alone,  that  gleam'd  and  gleam'd  amain 

Where  fact  each  morn  beheld  each  effort  vain. 
For  this,  all  else  his  spirit  had  resign'd, 

Deep-sworn  the  one  bright  object  to  attain, 
Through  deeds  of  present  life  to  bless  mankind, 
And  for  the  future  leave  a  standard   pure  behind. 

VI. 

His  was  a  state  where  freedom's  dawn  did  bring 

With  widening  views    of  beauty,  those  of  blight. 
There  manhood  reign'd  ;  and  each,  enthroned  a  king, 

Made  wrong  more  wrong  through   more  of  over 
sight  ; 

A  nation  his,  where  race  a  race  could  slight, 
With  ill  in  self,  and  in  the  things  it  brought ; 

For  man  is  man,  whatever  hue  or  hight ; 
And  long  as  laws  allow  free,  truthful  thought, 
'Tis   but   through  general   good,  a   nation's   can  be 
wrought. 

VII. 

In  such  a  land,  Emancipation's  need 

Had  made  unconscious  of  one  other  due 

Full  many  a  wiser  soul  that  moved  to  deed. 
The  Slavery  there  —  the  ward  of  patriots  too  — 
They  felt  a  foe,  that   bode  his  time,  and  grew  : 

They  sought  not  Statesmanship,  with  mouth  to  frame 
4 


50  DARING: 

The  mob's  ambition  ;  but  that  manhood  true 
Which  makes  all  brighter  to  reflect  its  name, 
Save  the  historic  page,  wide-shrunk  beside  the  flame. 

VIII. 

The  youth,  scarce  heeding  where   he  was   or  went, 

Moved  wildly  on  as  thoughts  that  work'd  his  will ; 
As  if,  tho'  meager  means  might  soon  be  spent, 

Proud  Hope  could  feel   unborn   successes  thrill ; 

Till  resting  on  the  brow  of  higher  hill, 
His  face  betokens  that  vain  fears  dispel ; 

And,  gazing  back,  he  stands  a  moment  still ; 
But  soon  emotions,  from  full  fountains  swell ; 
And  utter  thence  a  fond  and  passionate  farewell : 

IX. 

"Ye  mountains,  vales,    and   bays,    and   woods,   and 

streams,  — 

Oh  never,  never  seem'd  ye  half  so  rare  ! 
How    beauteous    each    shall    wake    when    morning 

gleams  ! 

Yet  I  who  love  you  so  shall  not  be  there  ! 
But  ne'er  shall  I  forget  the  guise  ye  wear, 
So  long  as  thought  shall  roam,  or  love  be  free.  — 

Why  are  not  souls  proportionately  fair  ? 
Ah,  then,  how  filPd  with  joy   might  all  things  be  ? 
And    then    there    were    no    need    that    ye    should 
banish   me  ! 

x. 

"And  yon  hot  hut,  beside  those  stunted  oaks, 
Long  smothering  all  the  dear  desires  of  youth, 


A   POEM.  51 

Dream  not  I  shall  regret  your  yards  and  yokes 
Who  go  to  harvest  broader  fields  of  truth  ! 
A  fiercer  curse  than  ever  comes,  forsooth, 

When  morning  light  reveals   my  vacant  cell  — 
Will  one  be  sad?  —  Ah  William,  is  it  ruth 

To  leave  you  thus  ?   forgive  me,  't  is  the  spell 

Of  strange  sensations  here  !   yes,   yes  I  must,  fare 
well  ! " 

XL 

Ask  you,  why  I  who  write  look  up  and  seek 

The  face  which  from  the  mirror  glances  down  ?  — 
This  is  not  he  who,  fed  by  fancies'  freak, 

Grew  out  the  limits  of  his  native  town. 

About  those  lips  and  eyes  a  fickle  clown 
Of  hope  was  sporting :  here,  tired  memories  rest. 

That  form  bent  not  before  stern  Fortune's  frown  : 
Nor   round   that   head    had    throng'd    each   ghostly 

guest  — 
God  grant  white  harbingers  of  crown  not  manifest ! 

XIL 

A  few  short  years,  how  will  their  sun  and  storm 

Trail  marks  of  change  across  the  face  and  frame  ; 
And  what  one  vaguely  deems  himself,  transform 

To  second  self,  both  friend  and  foe  disclaim  ! 

And,  in  the  heart,  how  unmark'd  calls  for  fame, 
Where  once  the  young  blood  sprung  at  each  fresh 
drum  ! 

Those    shifting    thrills   of    hope    and    fear,    how 

tame  !  — 

Familiar  throbs  of  life's  old  pendulum, 
Wound  up  to  vibrate  on  till  hope  and  fear  be  dumb. 


52  DARING: 

XIII. 
A  few  short  years,  ah,  steady,  steady  grown, 

The  fickle  brook  has  reach'd  the  level  mead 
Where  now,  no  more  to  boist'rous  torrents  thrown, 

The  deeper  current  moves,  with  noiseless  speed. 

And  haply  thus,  altho'  one  may  not  heed 
Full  springs  that  start  through  tides  far  underneath, 

Yet  wide  to  further  still  maturer  deed, 
More  strong,  tho'  naught  disturb  its  bordering  heath, 
Life  works  on  worthily  the  surface  calm  beneath. 

XIV. 

The  boy  —  for  man  to  term  the  boy's  life  "  I " 
Appear'd  now  false,  and  even  half  profane : 

For  sacred  is  that  past  he  walks,  where  lie 

Lands  bright  with  joy,  and  where  all  distant  pain 
Flits,  slight  as  shade,  or  beautifies,  if  lain 

The  boy  pass'd  on  ;  and  just   as  dawn  began 
To  sketch  far  east  a  rare  autumnal  plain, 

Along  the  road  in  front  his  eyes  could  scan 

A   house,    and    barn,    and    fence,    on    which    there 
lean'd  a  man, 

xv. 

A  farmer,  o'er  whose   broad  and   sun-served  brows 
Brown  Health  had  laid   her  consecrating  hands  ; 

With  stalworth  shoulders  bent  by  Toil  that  bows 
As  mindful  aye  of  boons  from  generous  lands  ; 
With   soul,    ne'er   swerved    by   scheme    the    loon 
commands, 

Smiling  from  all  the  face  a  welcome  true, 


A   POEM.  53 

Through  eyes  attention  wistfully  expands, 
Unwont  to  choose  from  books  a  mystic  clew 
And  search  the  maze  of  self  for  phantoms  ever  new. 

XVI. 

He  saw  the   youth;  and,  while  a  whistled  song 

Flew  off  from  opening  lips,  he  thus  began  : 
"  Bright  morning  neighbor,   judge  it's  pretty  long, 

Your  walk  :  you're  plodding  like  a  puritan. 

There  must  be  something  stirring  in  the  van 
That  it  can  further  such  unusual  zest  ? 

Where   do    you    go  ?  —  Don't   know  ?  —  Without 

a  plan 

As  well  await  the  sunset  in  the  west?  — 
Well,  well  I  never  question;   but  you'll  stop?  and 
rest  ?  — 

XVII. 

"  Good  farm  you  say  ?  quite  wise   to  think  it  is  ! 

No  better  land  in  all  this  hemisphere. 
Grain  grows  so  fast,  one  well-nigh  hears  it  whiz  ! 

I've  somewhat  changed  about  the  crops  this  year, 

But  on  my  side-hill  lot,  just  over  here, 
Where   now   these    buckwheat   buds   puff   out    like 
leaven, 

Last  fall  the  corn  —  I  swear  I  speak  sincere  — 
Stood  fifteen  feet,  as  tho'  the  Dung  had  striven, 
Pelagian-like,  to  build  green  Babels  up  to  Heaven  ! 

XVIII. 

"  Some  breakfast  ?  Yes,  of  course.  —  But  spare  your 
cents, 


54  DARING: 

I  have  n't  much  ;  to  that  I  welcome  you,  — 
Just  ready.      Early  breakfasts  save  expense  :  — 

One's  sooner  through  for  work ;  and  eats  less  too.'' 

While  seated  at  the  board,  with  quick  review 
Of  those  brave  resolutions  he  had  made, 

The  boy,  to  cause  of  reformation  true, 
Vow'd  to  commence  at  once  to  wield  his  blade  : 
But  thus  his  host  repell'd  each  venture  he  essay'd  :  — 

XIX. 

"  Free  slaves  ?  lift  masses  ?  —  nonsense  !  —  For  the 

schools 

I'd  pay  my  taxes,  yes  ;  but  not  sure  still 
That  men  train  working,  and  not  talking,  tools, 
Who  ease  of  muscle  and  strain  up  of  will. 
Better  strong  meat,  like  this.     Pass   up;   I'll   fill 
Your  plate  again.  —  Then  take  more  hash  ?  —  I'd 

vow, 

My  boy,  they'd  wean'd   you  on  a  sugar-pill  ! 
This  creature  was  the  most  fat,  soft,  sweet  sow 
Whose  furs  e'er  snugg'd  the   baby-worms.      There, 
try  that  now. 

xx. 

"  All  men  should  learn  ?  —  not  as  you  state  it,  boy  ; 

All  men  should  learn  enough  to  make  them  work. 
A  little  less  may  now  and  then  annoy ; 

A  little  more  makes  lazy  as  a  Turk. — 

No,  I  do  not  like  radicals  !    No  jerk 
Can  out-root  all  of  evil  in  a  trice  : 

Wherever  grain  can  ripen,  weeds  must  lurk  ; 
And  some  grow  till  the  harvest.  Take  advice  : 
Impatience  cannot  force  these  fruits  of  Paradise.  — 


A   POEM.  55 

XXI. 

"  Not  philanthropic  ?  —  pugh  !  I  tell  the  world  :  — 
'If  they'll  leave  me  alone,  then  I'll  leave  them.' 

Last  year,  some  city  swells  came  out,  and  whirl'd 
Our  country  up-side  down,  with  stratagem 
To  rip  a  rattling  railway  through  the  hem 

Of  my  farm  here ;   tried  to   inflate  the  thing 
With  long  blown  lies  of  cash.     I  said  to  them 

'Do  you  pretend  your  nuisance  wouldn't  bring 

All  else  your  big  town  hatches  with  its  dingy  wing  ? 

XXII. 

" '  Disinterested  friends  ;  this  is  a  place 

For  country  rest :  nor  now,  nor  in  next  year, 
Do  we  intend  its  quiet  to  efface 

By  buzz  and  bustle  of  your  boasted  sphere. 

Besides  —  altho',  perchance,  a  trifle  queer  — 
We  scarce  propose  to  triple  our  expense 

Even  for  double  gains  of  which  we  hear.  — 
When  our  good  wives  turn'd  chrysalids  of  sense 
To   burst,  town   butterflies !    we'd    rue    the    conse 
quence  ! 

XXIII. 

"  '  And  as  for  letters,  news  and  active  life, 

We've    work'd    these    heaving    hills    enough,    to 
know 

On  farm  one  finds  sufficient  storm  and  strife, 
And  life  full  fast,  tho'  you  imagine,  slow. 
Content  to  watch  the  seasons  come  and  go, 

With  each  new  sport  and  task  by  each  one  given  ; 


56  DARING: 

With  hunt  for  summer,  and  with  sleigh  for  snow, 
Match'd    against    smoky    streets,    all     stench     and 

Steven, 

We  know,  if  out   the  world,  we    live   much   nearer 
Heaven ! ' 

XXIV. 

"  Here  !  help  me  finish  this  raspberry  pie ; 

Right   full   of  seeds  !  —  but   seeds,    where   sown, 

may  grow  ?  — 
To    church  ?  —  Yes    always,   when    the    clouds   are 

high  : 

I  think  as  much  of  home  and  Bible  tho.'  — 
Not  public-spirited?  —  Well,  may  be,  no. 
But  mark  me,  boy,  one  way  to  influence 

Is  to  improve  one's  own  !     My  thrift  to  show, 
I  don't  blackguard  my  neighbor's,  o'er  the  fence, 
But  make  my  place   attract ;  and   shame   his  differ 
ence ! 

XXV. 

"  But  half  the  truth  ?  — What,  going  ?  —  Better  rest  ? 

Brows  always  knit  grow  wrinkled  in  their  prime. 
Must  ?  —  Then  good-bye  ;  perhaps  it    may  be  best : 

But  pardon  one  more  word,  —  tho',  at  your  time, 

I  too  had  whims  that  I  too  thought  sublime,  — 
Don't  be  so  bent  to  drive  the  older  folk. 

If  youth  must  hurry  toward  its  wiser  clime, 
Let  it  goad  on  the  young.  It  cann't  provoke 
Old  heads,  too  long  ago  grown  steady  to  their  yoke  ! 


A   POEM.  57 


XXVI. 

"  Farewell :  "  —  Then  hastening  out,  and  through  the 
path, 

The  guest  soon  disappeared  far  down  the  way, 
Where  stormy  feelings,  more  in  woe  than  wrath, 

Dash'd  to  wet  eyes,  weak  tributes  of  dismay  :  — 

"  Alas,  poor  Tongue  !  and  shall  you  ne'er  convey 
Conviction  for  the  deeds  you  would  install  ? 

Where'er  I'd  rouse  a  soul  that  good  have  sway, 
Whose  fault,  when  lo  !  in  answer  to  each  call, 
Jeers  stalk,  whence  I  had   hoped   that  Love  would 
marshal  all ! 

XXVII. 

"  So  was  it  on  the  farm  :  so  is  it  here. 

But,  on  the  farm,  those  brutal  ways  withstood 
Because  too  unkind,  kind  deeds  to  revere. 

But  this  man  seem'd   so   kind  !  "  —  thus   did   he 

brood, 
And  who  would  not  ?  —  Where   good   men  slight 

our  good 

There  comes  the  worst  test  Faith  can  e'er  out-pace. 
Well  for  the  boy,  doubt  donn'd  a  mootish  mood  :  — 
If  one  who  loved  but  self  and  not  the  race, 
With  so  small  thing  to  love,  could  wear  so  pleased 
a  face  ? 

XXVIII. 

And  where  was  youth,  in  whose  uncertain  breast, 
When  good  and  ill  were  wildly  balancing, 


58  DARING: 

Brave  hope  for  best  did  not  outweigh  the  rest? 
And  thus  ere  long,  from  grief  recovering, 
He  grew  quite  sure  that  years  more   skill  would 
bring : 

And  that  with  other  men,  he  would  agree : 
This  isolated  farmer  —  no  strange  thing  — 

Had  schemes  for  good,  no  doubt,  the  same  as  he, 

But  did  not  understand  him ;  no,  it  could  not  be. 

XXIX. 

So  he  trod  lightly  on  :  and,  when,  at  noon, 

The  shades  were  folding  in  each  sheltering  wing, 
He  found  beneath  broad  oaks  a  grateful  boon, 

Five  women  dining  round  a  sparkling  spring. 

They  offer  food  ;  then,  after  pain'd  throats  swing 
In  stiff  suspense  their  tongues  to  bid  him  cheer, 

Thrill  back  to  nature's  gossip-caroling  — 
Their    Joseph,  fy  !    how    qualm'd,    how    scared    to 

hear 

What  horrid,  scandalous  pit  he'd   dared  to   venture 
near  ! 

XXX. 

Escaped  this  peril  soon,  he  reach'd  a  town, 

One    whence  a   railway  stretch'd  far   toward    the 

sea. 

He  enter'd  a  long  train,   and  sat  him  down. 
First  nervous,  then  right  wild  with  ecstasy  ! 
The  clatter   timed  old  tunes !     The  trees,  whirl'd 

by 

And  wheel'd  far  off,  danced  to  the  music's   might ! 
As  towns  and  crowds  sped  past  so  rapidly, 


A   POEM.  59 

Charm'd  half  to  sleep,  he   dream'd   all    work'd    for 

right  : 
And    that    all   earth    had    grown    so    beautiful!    so 

bright ! 

XXXI. 

He  was  awaken'd  out  of  reverie 

By  two  loud  voices  from  the  seat  behind. 
He  turn'd  and  faced  a  man,  whose  glancing  eye 

Now  beam'd,  as  tho'  with  love  for  all  mankind  ; 

Then  changed  its  look,  as  wandering  to  find 
Regard  for  self,  or  thought  to  be  repeaPd ;  — 

With  knowledge  of  the   world    and    doubt    com 
bined 

Which  gives  to  manners  art,  not  all  conceaPd  ; 
To  words,  sound  school'd  to  stay  what  should  not 
be  reveaPd. 

XXXII. 

Beside  him  sat  another,  all  his  face 

Sway'd  by  a  courage  bold  to  conquer  care. 

His  glasses,  shifted  oft  with  easy  grace, 

Great  coat,  large  pockets,  and  abundant  hair 
Mark'd  him  —  "  physician,"  one  whose  sovereign  air 

Rebukes  the  rage  of  fevers  into  rest, 

Whose  brow  can  bear  unmoved  the  anxious  stare, 

While  children  wilder  o'er  his  crowded  chest  j 

And   how    a   silent    pulse    can    tell    which    cure    is 
best? 

XXXIII. 

The  first  one,  from  his  conversation,  seem'd 

Thought  from  commercial  spheres  to  intimate  :  — 


60  DARING : 

"  I  much  regret  our  old  friend  should  have  deem'd 
His  special  calling  now,  to  advocate 
These  strange  reform  bills ;  if  he  could  but  wait, 

His  talents  might  prove  par  for  any  place 
In  all  the  land.     Discounting  at  this  rate, 

Trust  me,  they  '11  reach,  ere  long,  a  day  of  grace 

With  every  note  of  fame  protested  by  the  race." 

xxxiv. 

The  other  said :  —  to  skip  words  harsh  for  rhyme  — 
"  All  very  true :  a  ventricle  should  not 

Out-act  an  auricle  :  there  was  a  time, 

Place,  ad  captandum  vulgus  :  this  was  what, 
In  actu,  made  men  :  he  never  forgot 

His  diagnosis,  Medicinae  D., 

Not  D.  D. :  some,  for  instance,  told  a  sot, 

Most  dead,  the  truth ;  to  wholly  kill  :  not  he  ; 

Nor  thought  a  devil's  tool  could  —  delve  respectably." 

XXXV. 

He  paused  to  gaze  upon  the  open  eyes 

And  mouth  of  the  awed  boy  who  sat  before  ; 

Increasing  much  the  listener's  surprise 

By  questioning :  what  thoughts  he  held  in  store  ?  — 
Who  blush'd  and  turn'd,  but  summon'd,  o'er  and 
o'er, 

Answer'd,  at  first,  with  timid,  modest  tone  : 
"  Perhaps  he  did  not  understand  their  lore ; 

But,  if  he  did,  at  least  he  dared  to  own 

But  little    could  it   please  them    if  those    thoughts 
were  known." 


A   POEM.  6 1 


XXXVI. 

'  Gainst   this,    they  both    made   protests,  moved   by 
which 

The  boy  much  love  for  truth  and  freedom  spoke. 
As  ways  waxt  bold,  the  doctor  seem'd  to  hitch 

His    questioning    thought    with    words,  no    sense 
could  yoke, 

Altho'  his  comrade  found  full  many  a  joke. 
Anon  appear'd  the  purpose  of  the  twain, 

In  interchange  of  glance.     Then   patience  broke. 
'  Tis  test  of  brightest  zeal,  if  quib  profane, 
Back,  like  a  mirror's  flash,  the  insult  flies  again. 

XXXVII. 

"Had  I  not  seen  enough,"  he  said,  "to  show 

Your  vile  hypocrisy  without  this  test  ? 
Must  you  add  dung  to  dirt,  and  foully  grow 

Rank  insult  from  filth,  else  too  manifest? 

Yes,  yes  I  was  a  fool,  I  own,  to  rest 
A  confidence  in  men,  too  mean  to  know 

With  what  sublimer  views  those  souls  are  blest 
Who  look  away  from  self!     If  self  below 
Seem  bright !    so  does   the   devil !    brilliant    as   his 
woe  !  " 

XXXVIII. 

His  quivering  mouth  could  hold  no  further  word : 
Nor  was  there  need  :  the  two  soon  left  the  train. 

"  A  strange  and  saucy  stripling !  "  this  he  heard, 
Then  he  was  left  alone,  alone  with  pain. 
They  did  not  know  how  oft  and  oft  amain 

Hot  tears  canae  seething  from  his  boiling  breast ; 


62  DARING: 

Nor   think   how  wit,    wing'd   warbling    from    one 

brain, 

May  build  on  tender  souls  a  loathsome  nest, 
Pluck    slowly    dying    leaves,    and   brood,    o'er  long 

unrest. 

xxxix. 

Then  too  the  young  are  true  philosophers, 

For  aye  retaining  all  impartially 
To  graft  in  thought  and  grow  in  characters. 

When  learning  sates  a  spare  necessity, 

A  man  may  deem  his  small  advance  a  plea 
For  crampt  contentment  with  too  little  lore, 

Or  fatted  pride,  wind-blown  ere  victory  : 
But  very  few  are  children  ever   more, 
To  trace  with  simple  faith  the  wonders  still  before. 

XL. 

And  he  thus  left  —  no  words,  however  sad, 
Could  speak  his  grief,  nor  any  fancy  show. 

What  fathoms  that  wild  source  that  can  make  mad  ? 
What  is  it  swamps  the  reason,  when  below 
Dark  depths  of  fancy  well  to  overflow  ? 

What  latent  power  of  grief  impels  them  on  ? 

When,  'midst  fierce  storm-clouds,  ghosts  of  buried 
woe 

And  future  ill  conjure,  with   features  wan, 

Sensations  too  acute  for  thought  to  poise  upon  ? 

XLI. 

"  I  wonder  if  it  be  that  yon  pale  star 

Shines    now   on    those    I    love  ? "    so    mused  he 
here  :  — 


A   POEM.  63 

"  Those   dear  old    faces  !  —  strange    how    dim    they 

are! 

And  can  it  be  they  nevermore  shall  cheer  ?  — 
A  fool  was  I,  to  let,  without  a  tear, 
Such  fruitless  hope  outweigh  a  bliss  possess'd !  — 

And  are  they  joyous  there,  tho'  I'm  not  near  ? 
Or  do  they  weep  with  kindred  woes  oppress'd  ? 
Or  is  naught  kindred   now  for   this    lone,  shivering 
breast  ? 

XLII. 

"  On  either  side,  I  hear,  'mid  nod  and  smile, 
From  festive  hearts,  this  ringing  laughter  bound  — 

I'd  rather  be  the  wretch  who,  down  the  aisle, 
From  coffin  seal'd,  cries  —  *  murder  ! '  to  the  sound 
Of  his  own  requiem !  'twere  sweet  compound 

To  mine  !  —  who'd  mourn  for  me  ?  for  me,  a  pest  ? 
Why  all    things    shun    me :  —  e'en  this    senseless 
ground.  — 

How  far  away  the  chill  night  sears  the  west ! 

How  very,  very  far  mild  Nature's  mocking  rest! 

XLIII. 

"  A  tale,  I've  read,  of  one  spared  spar  that  bore 

A  shipwreck'd  sailor  far  from  friendly  lea, 
Nor  heeded  beacon-fires  upon  the  shore 

That  flared  and  fell  while    swell'd  and    sank  the 

sea. 

Ah  !  there  be  things  leave  Earth  more  direfully  :  — 
These  woes  that  float  back   deathward  through  the 

brain 
Where  storms  that  will  not  let  the  dying  be 


64  DARING: 

Surge  up  as  tho'  with  new  impulse  of  pain, 
To    crack    each    shatter'd    nerve,   and    burst    each 
straining  vein. 

XLIV. 

"  Yet  far,  cold  world,  I  love !  could  I  not  show 

Some  soul,  that  out  its  usual  quest  would  veer, 
That  they  yield  most  to  friends  whose  love  can  flow 

But  for  the  few  ?  —  Alas  !  shall  such  appear  ? 

Is  desolation  dear  to  lure  them  near  ? 
Is  woe  so  worthful,  it  can  woo  Delight  ?  — 

Oh  God  !  spare  one,  one  chording  voice  !  —  I  hear 
Heaven's  full  of  chords  to  diapason  might 
Of  love,  with  common  base  deep  in  the  Infinite  ! " 

XLV. 

The  train  had  stopt :  and  out  the  crowd  there  came 
A  youth  who  after  many  a  bow  and  smile, 

And  parting  and  return,  to  make  the  same, 

With  curious  eye  came  sauntering  down  the  aisle, 
Then    sat    beside    our    wanderer.      "  Not    much 
style 

Aboard  !  "  said  he.    "  Confound  my  ears  !  —  A  bore, 
A  blasted  bore,  this  tunnel !  I  could  file 

Two  beauties  past  blear-eyed  coquets,  three  score, 

Without    such    clatter  !  —  Why,  what's  up  ?     You're 
looking  sore? 

XLVI. 

"  A  little  blue  ?  —  that's  up  enough  !  sky-high  ! 

Felt  so  myself !  Seen  stars  sometimes  !  Why  hide 
The  cause  ?     Take  the  hide  off.     By  my  best  eye 


A   POEM.  65 

To  flay  a  folly  slays  it.     A  rawhide 

Peels    a  fool's    thought,    moults    foolish !      Come, 

confide  ? 

Naught  like  an  airing,  would  you  oust  a  moan." 
Our    youth    look'd    longing    toward    his   proffer'd 

guide, 

For  those  strange  words  had  yet  a  friendly  tone  ; 
And,  as  he  watch'd  that   face,  he    seem'd  no   more 
alone : 

XLVII. 

Besides,  he  had  no  great  trusts  to  confide, 

So  soon  imparted  them  to  this  new  friend, 
On  whom  not  some  but  all  appear'd  to  glide  : 

Would  God  our  older   cares  found  such  an  end ! 

"  That  all  your  cash  ?  and  bound  to  try  a  bend 
To  New  York  ?     Quite  a  crazy  crook !  for  what  ? 

To  make  a  man?     A  project  to  commend 
At  your  size  !    Not  a  fascinating  sot 
That  held  you  bound !      But    let    unfruitful    topics 
rot: 

XLVIII. 

"  I  have  a  guardian  —  honor  to  whom  due  ! 

He    guards    what    shops    are    paid,  I,  what   they 

sell. 
This  governor  rules  a  school :  that  should  suit  you, — 

And  a  gazette,  that  shouldn't !  —  funereal !  — 

Taste,  Truth,  both  sacrificed  to  th'  rifT-rafTs'  hell ! 
Could  you  spell  out  goose-tracks  of  genus  coy ; 

Stop  up  each  sense ;  without  cold,  snivel  well, 


66  DARING  : 

So  that  to  him  like  tone  like  slang  convoy, 

He's  seen  so  much  of  me,  he'd  have  another  boy." 


XLIX. 


Then  added  he  of  life  in  Baltimore, 

"  In  that  right  merry  State  of  Maryland  :  — 

No  Yankee-made  strait-jackets  to  restore 

The  souls  gone  mad  from  endless  reprimand !  — 
All  the  best  fun  on  earth  their  town  could  stand, 

Tho'  'ad  made  —  for    hens,  with    half-hatch'd  hopes 

waylay'd  — 
Black  abolition  speeches  contraband  — 

Don't  frown,  a  slave's  not  such  an  ugly  jade. 

And  boy,  my  boy,  you'll  find  there  many  a   bright 
eyed  maid." 


The  boy  had  frown'd  ;  but  't  was  the  frown  of  dreams, 

When  blinded  sight  shies  from  too  dazzling  light. 
For  here  up-gleam'd  the  acme  of  his  schemes  :  — 

To  know  the  South,  and  learning,  learn,  to  write. 

It  distanced  hope  he  had  not  dared  excite. 
He  e'en  forgets  his  mission  while  he  bends 

To  catch  the  wild  details,  so  swift  of  flight, 
About  that  new-found  home,  and  coming  friends, 
While    Fancy  each   strange    form,    a   stranger    halo 
lends. 

LI. 

He  hears  about  the  school ;  "  the  queerest  set 

Earth  e'er  had  jarr'd  together  ;  down  from  Pool  — 
The  pest  of  tutors,  but  the  student's  pet, 


A  POEM.  67 

Who  works  all  day  but  never  with  the  school, 
Gains    discipline    through    zest    and  not   through 

rule  — 
Way  down  to  Sims,  whose  ample  pocket-toys 

Outweigh  the  brain,  a  fop  and  fawning  fool, 
Dons  vice  by  nature,  doffs  but  when  decoys, 
The  beau  of  all  the  girls,  the  butt  of  all  the  boys." 

LIT. 

Then  of  a  matron  :  —  "  snarling,  sharp,  and  slim  : 

A  thing  best  made  to  punch  with  !  topt  by  hue 
Of  blood  too  !  with  a  gait  as  stiff  and  prim 

As  stilts   could    give !  who    eats    with    chronic  — 
1  pshew  ! ' 

Lest    bad    breath    taint    her  —  mirror !    for    the 

shrew 
Has  no  friends  :  like  a  caged  beast's  sentinel, 

Pokes  up  all  day  a  snarling   brat  or  two ; 
Or  hints  a  deal  of  news  she  must  not  tell ; 
Or  finds  out  all  folk  do,  and  not  one  doing  well." 

Lin. 

Then  of  a  tutor :  and  that  tutor's  life, 

'Spite  all  the  funny  traits  young  wit  could  show, 
Loom'd  like  a  chieftain's  form  to  fainting  strife  — 

This  seem'd    the    soul    the    boy    had  yearn'd  for 
so :  — 

"  A  man  who  loved  a  '  yes,'  but  dared  say  *  no  !  ' 
Strict,  yet  with  smiles  ;  gay,  yet  a  Christian  too. 

'Twas  said  he'd  weather'd  many  a  storm  below, 
Still  vigor  stay'd  ;  and,  when  in  spirits  —  whew  ! 
You'd  think  he'd  gulpt  down  each,  to  blow  its  sport 
for  you !  " 


68  DARING: 


LIV. 

Some  men  there  are,  whose  generous  zeal  for  truth 

Burns  like  that  holy  bush  which  Moses  saw, 
To  leave  each  leaf  and  limb  still  green  with  youth : 

Some  souls  there  are,  impelPd   by  love,  not  law. 

Dear  thence  the  boon  from  living  wells  to  draw 
The  deep  experience  stored  through  strife  unseen. 

Sweet  are  the  words,  pure  past  all  fear  of  flaw, 
From  melting  hearts,  with  naught  to   intervene 
'Twixt  mind   and   mouth  to   mould  them  cold,  tho' 
crystalline  ! 

LV. 

Such  was  the  soul,  our  youth,  soon  after,  found 

Prepared  to  aid  the  groundwork  of  his  thought : 
And  oft,  when  delving  down  where  doubts  abound, 

The  wisest  way,  by  that  wise   friend  was  taught. 

He  loved  his  work,  aye  feeling,  while  he  wrought, 
That  only  from  the  deep  foundations  rise 

Grand  structures,  like  the  model  that  he  sought : 
And  tho'  this  oft  was  hid  to  drooping  eyes, 
Anon  he'd  spring  to  see  it  flash  from  clearest  skies ! 

LVI. 

Then  would  he  live  for  months  in  that  bright  land 

Where  boyhood  dwells,  to  bless  perpetual  morn; 
Where  'mid  the  fragrant  air  on  either  hand 

Throng  birds  and  buds  and  sunbeams  newly  born  ; 

Where  care  whiffs  by  like  wind  j  and  every  thorn 
That  paves  the  path  o'er  which  the  feet  must  stray 

Gleams  'neath  the  dewy  crystals  that  adorn, 


A  POEM.  69 

With  thousand  charms  to  dazzle  down  the  way, 
And  rouse  far  drawn  desires    this    earth    can   ne'er 
allay. 

LVII. 

He  lived,  with  deepening  eye,  and  merry  voice, 
And  winning  ways  that  grew  still  more  in  grace, 

To  laugh  from  chance  but  be  demure  from  choice, 
While  'mid  each  form  he  sought  to  find  some  face, 
And  through  each  sound  some  subtle  thought  to 
trace  : 

For  this,  he  oft  would  search,  'mid  dust  and  noise, 
Strange  buildings  or  the  queerer  populace  ; 

And  wend  where  on  the  green  the  crowd  enjoys, 

And  mourns    and    mocks    by  turns,  young    soldiers 
and  old  boys. 

LVIII. 

Or,  sicken'd  by  the  crime  and  filth  one  meets, 
He'd  wander  nervously  adown  the  hill, 

Along  the  shady  side  of  grand  old  streets, 
To  reach  the  sea,  and  gaze  in  waters  still, 
Or  skip  smooth  pebbles  through  each  rising  rill, 

Long  charm 'd,  he  knows  not  wherefore,  by  the  play  ; 
Then    seek    his    bed    to    rise,    when   white    stars 
thrill 

With  feelings  wide  and  wild  which  melt  away 

With  bells  whose  echoes  bound  like  breakers  'round 
the  bay ! 

LIX. 

At    times,  grown  sad    for   lost    hours,  nights  would 
find 


70  DARING  : 

Him  dashing  through  the  course  of  some  chance 

book 

The  fickle  passion  of  unbridled  mind. 
Alas  !  how  many  truths  did  he  o'erlook  ! 
How  many  rich-robed  lies  for  guides  he  took  ! 
How  dizzy  love  grew,  lured  by  glittering  wing 
Through    morbid     fantasy !      How    sweet    Faith 

shook, 

Half  kill'd  by  darts,  well  nigh  too  sharp  to  sting, 
Thrust  through  the    back  by    those  who    spoke    so 
mild  a  thing ! 

LX. 

But  books  brought  good  with  bad.     From  doubting 

task 

That  incantation  came  for  each  truth  sought, 
Which  may  fail  all,  but  least  fails  those  that  ask, 
So  long  as  conscience  grow  with  growing  thought. 
Howbeit,   when    Pride    would    taunt    crude   ways 

untaught, 
Or  Prejudice  laugh  down  some  odder  scheme, 

He  fear'd  for  self  that  argued  now,  now  fought  ; 
But  soon  forgot  the  thing,  for  higher  theme, 
In  doubt  then  if  the    woe    had    been    in    deed   or 
dream. 

LXI. 

More  oft,  impelPd  by  wild  unrest  within, 

Half   wrong,    half   right,    he    sought    to    sate    its 
might 

Through  trumpet-blasts  of  onset  to  all  sin  : 
Or  real,  or  fancied,  both  invoked  his  spite. 


A   POEM.  71 

He.  storm'd  the  seen  !  he  stabb'd  that  out  of  sight ! 
A  young  Don  Quixote,  caring  first  to  dare, 

He  harm'd   more   good,  perchance,  through   zeal 

for  right, 

Than  lie  or  sham,  his  effort  could  lay  bare  : 
He  stirr'd   the  most  of  dust  just  where  most  need 
of  air. 

LXII. 

And  this  he  found  ;  for  one  sweet  day  when  all 
His  soul  had  seem'd  to    bloom    in   dreams  most 

bright, 

He  waked,  to  note  near  shadows  crawl  the  wall, 
And,  turning  quickly,  met  the  welcome  sight 
Of  fondest    friends,    long    wont    to    cheer   when 

Right 

Urged  knightly  wish  to  tilt  some  erring  soul. 
'Spite    strife   to    check    them,    lo !    'mid   laughter 

light, 

His  own  name  toss'd  !  Oh  God  !  with  grace  control 
Faith,  finding  first  how  near  Life  skirts  a  trustless 
shoal ! 

LXIII. 

What    lover    dreams    that    love    which    throbs    and 

thrills 

Can,  for  one  heedless  hour,  be  laid  aside  ? 
The  heart  of  that  soul-life,  whose  beating  fills 
Each  individual  ripple  of  the  tide 
Of  blood  or  breath,  where  has  the  soul-life  died  ? 
Ah,  when,  swift  stirr'd,  it  doffs  this   fleshy  vest, 
Love,  like  the  lightning,  flash'd  from  storms,  shall 
glide 


72  DARING: 

To  join  full  light  of  heaven  !  tho'  all  the  rest 
Fall    back,    as    clouds,    that    wept,   sink,    spent,   on 
Ocean's  breast. 

LXIV. 

"  My  Pythias  ?  "  he  heard  :  —  "  He's  like  a  Muse, 

The  more  unseen  the  more  inspiring,  oh  ! 
I  deem  some  friends  like  onions  ;  —  best  to  use 
When  one's  alone  ;  —  or   else  with    geese  ;  —  not 

so? 

Come,  here's  a  problem  :  —  you  are  stumpt  to  show 

Just  where  the  fellow's  like  a  goose  ?  "  —  "  Because 

He's  good   to    pluck,  with    feathers    white  too  !  " 

"  No." 
"  Well    then,    with    chief   defence  —  you    see  —  his 

j  aws,  — 
Good  weapons  only  for  a  bird  of  cloven  claws." 

LXV. 

"  He  cackles  ere  he  scratches  ;  —  but  go  to  ! 

I  judge  that  one  a  goose,  whenever  wont 
To    mix    with    men,  who'll    quack    and    hiss  —  you 
know  — 

A-face  the  kitchen  door,  and  not  the  front ! 

Like  one  of  Scott's  grand  soldiers  in  the  brunt, 
Who  always  saw  the  stranger  wrong  side  first  — 

With  bad  impression  !     Pshaw  !  to  be  so  blunt 
For  good,  so  sharp  for  sin  is  to  be   curst. 
They're  bound  to  find  but  woe  who  feel  but  for  the 
worst. 


A   POEM.  73 

LXVI. 
"  Tis  pity  too.     If  he  had  aught  below, 

Some  wheeling  years    that    pass   might  whet  his 

wit : 

But  he's  top-heavy.     Whims  upset  him  so  ; 
He's  like  a  spinning  top  ;  —  well  whipt  for  it, 
He'll  whine  with  wind  ;  not  whipt,  have  a  moping 

fit !  "  — 

This  was  too  much :  the  boy  could  bide  the  rest. 
But  when  pretended  friends  could  thus  submit 
His  young  life's  failure  for  his  whole  life's  test, 
It  was  to  doom  for  woe  all  hope  that   still   seem'd 
blest. 

LXVII. 

He  spoke :     "  It  might  be  well  for   one  who   skims 

Only  of  surface  thinking,  not  to  mock 
What  lies  too  deep  for  him.     I  seem  all  whims. 
Tell  how  a  body  differs  from  a  block, 
Except  through  these  same  whims  ?     Be  you   the 

rock, 
That  staid,  world-worthy  thing,  doomsday  shall  find 

Mud-bound  !  —  I'd  rather  be  the  weather-cock, 
To  whine  ?  —  Yes  whine  !  —  clean-splinter  with    the 

wind ! 

If  so  some  sign  from   heaven  were   token'd   to   my 
kind !  — 

LXVIII. 

"  Too  late  recalling  words  now  !     You  were  right  — 
'Twas  kind  to  be  just,  e'en  behind  one's  back !  — 


74  DARING: 

The  goose   did    hiss !     Is't    strange    thing    in   your 

sight, 

Life,  true  to  nature  ? —  it  hiss'd  back  a  quack  ! 
Oh,  I  have  seen  lips,  livid  from  long  lack 
Of  what  the  heart  held ;  truth  and  tongue  had  cut 

Connection ;  only  aping  left,  my  pack  — 
The  witty  apes  were  first  of  brutes,  but  tut ! 
They  thought  to  mock  true  men,  and  turn'd  creation's 
butt !  — 

LXIX. 

"  Spare  me !  for  flattery,  that  whited  scum 
Of  selfish  souls,  taste  sickens  in  the  end. 

'Tis  not  forever  sweet,  the  modicum ! 

Try  a  fresh  tongue  !    To  serve  it,  you  can  wend, 
Not  hoof  d  nor  horn'd ;    some  smooth  mask,  I'd 
commend  ; 

Yet  ne'er  let  slip  the  cheat ;  lest  dupes  begin 
To  scorn  !    God-knighted  Conscience  will  not  bend 

When  one  would  praise  himself;   but   stabs  within. 

And  what  self  yields  not  self,  it  yields  to  no  one's 
—  sin!" 

LXX. 

Much   more    he   might   have   rail'd ;    but,    glancing 
up, 

Beheld  his  favorite  teacher  hear  him  chide ! 
Then  soon  the  froth  that  foam'd  above  the  cup, 

Dissolv'd  in  timid  tears,  stole  down  the  side :  — 

"  Ah  Sir,  I  could  not  help  it.     I  could  bide 
A  boast  of  Insult,  if  victorious   Mirth 

Snatch'd  not   a  victim's    crown.     Not  only  pride, 


A   POEM.  75 

The  good,  one  might  do,  bids  defend  self-worth. 
That  lost,  and  all  is  lost,  all  influence  but  dearth."  — 

LXXI. 

I've  read  that,  in  old  times,  men  sought  the  list, 
Of  whom  one  mark'd  the  groundlings  nudge  and 

prate, 
Because  of  humble  guise  —  "  lo  Egotist !  " 

There's  many  a  modest  soul  must  bear  that  fate 
Whom  unobtruding  worth  has  doom'd  to  state 
Of  low  regard,  which  one  faint  sigh  repels  : 

Earth  likes  the  swaggering,  plumed,  and   spurr'd 

ingrate 

Well  cheer'd  alone  ere  trump  to  onset-  swells ; 
But    not    one    half-way  protest !  —  get  you  cap  and 
bells  !  — 

LXXI  I. 

Self  may  live  far  from  its  ideal  ends, 

As    earth    from    heaven ;    as    dreams  .  from  love 

awake : 

Then  judge  we  self  by  wish ;  but  nearest  friends 
Judge  but  by  works,  and,  judging  thus,  mistake. 
This  boy  deem'd  his  friend  harsh,  who  strove  to 

make 
Now  pride,  now  anger  proof  of  love  amiss  : 

Then,  when  the    injured    heart   still    more  would 

ache, 

Gave  it  a  book  :  —  "A  few  hours  spent  with  this 
May    train    calm    thought,"    he    said ;    "  and  teach 
analysis." 


76  DARING: 

LXXIII. 

And  such,  when  well  prepared,  thus  read  the  youth : 
"  The    kindliest    aim    might    fail,  pumpt    up  like 

spleen 
With  gusty  face  and  fist,  e'en  tho',  forsooth, 

1  Peace,  peace   on  earth,  good  will   toward  men ' 

the  theme. 
Would  one  deal    TRUTH    for  thought  ?  —  or   LOVE 

for  mien?  — 
TRUTH  is  best  dealt  through  proof,  as  thus  :  —  twice 

three 

Are  six ;  we  each  have  three,  then   six  between  : 
A  powerless  form,  knew  not  both  equally 
Twice  three  are  six ;  did  not  proof  start  where  both 
agree. 

LXXIV. 

"  And  thus  it  is  that  widest  powers  belong 

To  liberal  minds.     They  yield  much  to  the  race, 

And  gain  much  oneness  thence  to  woo  the  throng. 
Real  eccentricity  moves  off  through  space, 
Concentric  ne'er  !     Shut  in  to  self,  a  grace, 

As  brains  entomb'd  breed  worms,  breeds  bigotry ; 
Whence   love's    live    spirit    flies    toward    Heaven 
apace, 

Where  stars,  tho'  single,  blend,  a  galaxy  ; 

And  wills  blend,  one  through  right  divine  of  Charity. 

LXXV. 

"  Treat  not  as  fabrics  of  vain  human  wit 

The  deepest  moral  truths.     Believe  the  mind 


A   POEM.  77 

Is  dower'd  with  such  when  form'd.     To  benefit, 
Rouse  first  each  germ  already  in  mankind, 
For  good  grown  outward  from  true  life  behind. 

God's  Spirit  moves  to  love  but  one  deep  key 
Whence  all  life-music  sounds.     So  power   to  find 

'Mid  minds  or  natures  deepest  harmony  — 

Genius  grows  chiefly  such  through  geniality. 

LXXVI. 

"  And  if  not  TRUTH,  but  LOVE  one  deal ;  how  then, 

Imparting  spirit  such  as  now  redeems 
Through  kindlier  weal  the  worth  of  modern  men, 

Can  strife  attain  one  aim  of  loving  themes  ? 

Can  bitter  sources  flow  to  flood  sweet  streams  ? 
If,  stirr'd  to  grand  endeavor,  one  would  blend 

An  anarchy  of  individual  schemes 
In  Heaven-like  union  for  harmonious  end ; 
If  union    come    through    love,  let    love    its    claims 
commend. 

LXXVII. 

"  Pause,  where  Reform  would  form  to  one  fond  truth 

All  else,  lest  it  court  self,  ideal-bright. 
A  new  aim  push'd  despite  old  good  forsooth, 

A  finite  aim  adjusts  not  all  things  right. 

The  gain  complete  is  always  Infinite  ! 
The  choice  to  serve  but  self  made  Adam  fall, 

E'en   wishing    wisdom ;    and    to    mould    through 

might 

Others  to  self,  cloaks  with  a  tyrant's  pall 
The  freedman's  leader ;  and    makes    demons  of  us 
all. 


78.  DARING: 

LXXVIII. 
"  Remember  One  divine,  and  yet  a  guide, 

Whose  precious  promises  seem  less   command, 
Than  paeans  which  proclaim  that  strife  subside. 
Remember  Moses  when  beneath  the  hand 
Of  God  within  the  rock.     What  seem'd   too  grand 
When  with  that  Spirit's  strength  investitured  ?  — 
Like  them,  to-day,  all   through    the  world   might 

stand 

Meek  men,  for  whom  had  patient  faith  secured 
More  power  than  princes  wield,  of  countless   hosts 
assured. 

LXXIX. 

"  Seek  faith,  for  through   the  clouds  that  cover  all 
This  looms  the  only  archway  toward  the  Throne. 

The  skill  that  sows  the  seed  can  never  call 

The  grain  to  life ;  where'er  the  germ  be  grown, 
'Tis  vivified  by  power,  to  man  unknown. 

So  till  the  earth ;  and  learn,  as   storms  revive, 
Failure  in  toil  were  this,  to  toil  alone. 

Then  strange  'twill  seem  that  men  should  wrongly 
strive 

When  love,  that  prompts  mild  aims,  alone  can  make 
aims  thrive." 

LXXX. 

"  Well  done  !  "  the  master  said  :  "  Wise  then,  would 

all 

Whom  passion  plunges  into  sudden  ill, 
Quick  to  resent,  be  as  quick  to  recall. 


A   POEM.  79 

Ere  hating  hours  hatch  habits,  swift  fulfill  — 
So  Love  may  still  seem  sovereign  of  the  will  — 
All  friendliness  to  friends,  Love  yet  may  save. 

And  one  thing  more  :  before,  o'er  Eastern  hill, 
Comes    broader    light,    think    not    Heaven    to  out 
brave  : 

Nor    quite    so   wisely    speak    full    freedom   for   the 
slave." 

LXXXI. 

Some  more  he  spoke  ;  then  left  with  mild  adieu.  — 

No  human  voice  could  now  recall  the  dart 
Love's  Thoughtlessness,  but   of  an    instant,  threw  : 
"  False  friends,"  the  poor  boy  mused,  "  had  heard 

his  heart! 
His  words   were    blamed,  forsooth,   for    lack   of 

art! 

What  then  ?  he  could  not,  would  not  don   disguise. 
Blame  were   more    blest    than    praise,  from  truth 

apart !  " 

He  sought  his  bed";  he  dream'd,  'mid  waking  cries, 
Of  contest  flaming  up  to  smoke  that  hid  the  skies  !  — 

LXXXII. 

Oh  world,  world,  world !  you   play'd    too  well  your 
part, 

When  our  ideal  life  first  bade  farewell 
To  Hope,  low-framing  towers  of  perfect  art ! 

When  from  the  scaffolding,  Faith,  fainting,  fell 

'Mid  rocks  so  chill,  and  yet  so  near  to  Hell  ! 
Poor  Babel-dreams,  what  were  our  brains  about  ? 

No  fancied  forms  to  full  proportions  swell ! 


8o  DARING  : 

Comes  reel !    comes    rack !    then  grim   and   ghastly 

doubt ! 
Why  brood,  black  buzzard  ?  why  not  rip  the  doom'd 

heart  out  ?  — 

LXXXIII. 

He  seem'd  to  gaze  aback  the  long,  long  years, 
Where    chariot  wheels    that    roll'd    through    ages 

past 
Creak'd  as  with    groans    which    shook   far  yawning 

fears  ! 

And  all  about  were  wars  !  no  peace  to  last ! 
Or  tombs,  with  gilded  praise  to  guilt  most  vast ! 
He  sought  the  future  ;  but  from  unform'd  life 
Congealing  chaos  chill'd  the  brooding  blast ! 
He  fear'd  to  know  what  wrong,  what  right  was  rife  ! 
He  dared  not  look  beyond  thick  fumes  of  earthly 
strife  ! 

LXXXIV. 

He  woke  :  and  mused  of  self.     The  wisest  souls 
Muse  first  of  self;  mild,  tho',  so  long  denied, 

They  see,  still  far  beyond,  their  chosen  goals. 
But  he,  he  was  not  wise  yet,  to  confide 
In  distant  good.     He  thought  how  he  had  tried : 

And  self  lost  love  :  and  others  gain'd  but  pain  : 
How  he  had  spurn'd,  —  for  wrongs  he  could  not 
bide,  — 

His  benefactors.     What  course  could  remain  ?  — 

One :  —  he  must  leave  their  roof  tho'  all  his  hopes 
be  slain  ! 


A   POEM.  81 


LXXXV. 

He  seized  his  clothes  :  and  rush'd  out  through  the 

night 
Where  Darkness  trembled  'neath  the  threatening 

tread 

Of  an  advancing  Storm.     Oh  fearful  sight  — 
That  black  car  of  the  Thunderer  overhead  ! 
Those  fierce  bolts  flashing  down  their  line  of  red  ! 
And  crashing  on  amid  the  scatter'd  sleet ! 

Whence  one    broad  elm,  like  Caesar  stabb'd  and 

dead, 

Flung  up  its  robes,  and  tumbled  at  his  feet, 
While  hoarse  winds  howl'd  about,  a  fiendish  zerelete. 

LXXXVI. 

On,  on  and  on,  he  sped,  till   suddenly, 

With  deafening  shock,  the  bay,  a  sea  of  flame, 
Flash'd  full  in  view  !     He  turn'd  in .  fright  to  flee, 

Wild  as  a  murderer  hearing  his  own  name  ! 

He    thought    of    death,    of   hell,    with    quivering 

frame  ! 
He  thought  his  deeds  had  helpt  inflame  their  ire, 

Till     all     the     Thunders     seem'd     to    bellow - 

"  Shame !  " 

And  Winds  hiss'd,  hooting  on,  and  would  not  tire  — 
"  A  curse  to  self  and  all !  and  all  the  world  on  fire  !  " 

LXXXVII. 

He  ran,  and  ran,  as  tho'  to  outstrip  thought ! 

Yet  only  fann'd  its  fuel,  red  to  white  ! 
And  made  the  dogs  bark  louder,  tho'  for  naught. 


82  DARING. 

He  whirl'd  aface  a  window  where  was  light. 

Its  beams  suggested  hope  !  he  curst  the  sight : 
And  turning,  plung'd  far  into  kindred  dark  : 

But  as  he  dash'd  along,  with  frenzied  might, 
Upon  the  pavement  fell  a  trembling  spark : 
He  crush 'd  it  with  his  heel,  and  sought  the  broader 
park. 

LXXXVIII. 

Half  way  across,  his  passion's  hot-tooth'd  flames 

Freeze,  icy  blades  !     A  fearful  shriek  cuts  through 
The  fitful  surges  of  the  storm  !  and  shames 

The  sever'd  thunder!     Lanterns  loom  in  view! 

And  sly  police,  assured,  at  last,  of  clew 
From  quick  steps  where  the  poor  boy  hies  from  fear. 

Then    oh,  how  swift    through    lawn  and    lane  he 

flew, 

Till  all  was  gloom  again  !  when,  drench'd  and  drear, 
He  hid  beneath  a  shed  to  wait  till  dawn  draw  near. 

LXXXIX. 

And  last  it  does  come  !     From  his    crimson  couch, 
The  Sun  draws  back  the  curtains  of  the  East ; 

While  stealthy  shades,  through  fen  and  forest  crouch; 
Or,  'scaping  westward,  leave  the  world  releast 
From  dismal  spells  that  still'd  the  man  and  beast. 

Winds,  wide,  aroused,  shake  up  each  rustling  wood, 
As  tho'  they  whisper'd  —  "Wake,  your  thralldom's 
ceast ! " 

And  birds,  that  dream'd  all  night  of  morning  mood, 

Chase  the  faint  stars,  or  find  them  flown  with  glee 
renew'd. 


A   POEM.  83 

XC. 
Soon,  o'er  the  high  hills  lifts  the  sovereign  crown, 

When,  gayly  garb'd  in  homage  of  their  king, 
The  dew-bright  Groves  and  Grasses  bend  low  down, 
Then  yield  their  midnight  gains  to   vapory  wing. 
Pleased  with  the  stores  of  glittering  wealth,  they 

bring, 
Their  prince  speaks  festive  day!  whence  sounds  of 

praise 

And  fragrant  incense  float :  and  sweet  bells  ring 
Of  hour,  for  men  to  muse,  'mid  prayerful  lays, 
Of  that  bright  morn  when  comes  the   Prince  of  all 
the  Days! 

xci. 

Ay,  ay  He  comes,  after  all  storm  and  rain, 

When  glory  gilds  above  the  last  dim  night, 
When  peace  fills  back  the  last  faint  sigh  of  pain, 

He  comes,  He  comes  to  usher  endless  light! 

Wake  up,  oh  Earth  !    E'en  now,  half  led  by  sight, 
Behold!  and  track  the  tempest  by  the  rose! 

And  through  the  wake  of  war,  the  way  of  right ! 
Behold !  while  each  fresh  breath  of  morning  blows, 
How  sweet,  how  beauteous  life  beneath  the  darkness 
grows ! 

xcn. 
But  he,  whose  night  had  pass'd  so  drearily, 

For  whom    the    wise    Winds    whisper'd    in    their 

round, 
For  whom  the  brisk  birds  chirpt  so  cheerily, 


84  DARING:   A  POEM. 

For  whom  the  bright  sun  up  the  heavens  wound, 
Till  brave  work  bustled  by,  with  praiseful  sound, 
Old  men  moved  lightly,  and  glad  children  leapt, 

Amort  to  hope  and  happiness  profound, 
LulPd    to    long  weary    dreams    while    tired    storms 

wept, 

Stretch'd  on  the  chill,  damp  ground  all  through  the 
dawning  slept. 

XCIII. 

At  length,  a  farmer,  stranger  to  the  throng, 

Happening  to  spy  the  boy,  through  curious  ken, 
Approach'd :  and  rousing  him,  with  accents  strong, 

Cried:  —  "My  young  run-a-way,  I've   caught  you 
then? 

Good  care  I'll  take  you  do  not  run  again  !  — 
Ho  !  cartman  !  go  you  toward  the  station  now  ?  — 

I  wish  to  move  a  sick  boy,  out  this  pen.  — 
You've  place  enough  for  us.     I'll  show  you  how  — 
Put  me  here,  on   the    seat,  and   him   there,  by  the 
plow  !  " 


ML 

SUMMER  had  come  ;  and  with  too  heated  Suns 
Whose  lazy  pace  allow'd  lax  Nature's  strength 
In  whim  to  bud,  ere  wasting  for  the  grain, 
Came  long  vacation  for  the  college  lad. 
How  gladly  shunn'd  he,  in  the  poet's  room, 
Maternal  art,  with  brisk  anxiety, 
Fain  forcing  on  the  museful  student-mood, 
On  misanthropic  seeming  of  soul-thought, 
Picnics,  tea-parties,  and  too  gushing  girls  ! 
And  how  inspiring  there  the  old  man's  words  ! 
There  is  a  time  when  youth  must  pass  those  gates, 
The  dismal  passages  'neath  castle  walls, 
That  lead  up  from  the  park  where  childhood  sports 
To  hall  wherein  the  chieftain  meets  his  clan. 
If  long  the  way,  if  dark,  then  strongly  rear'd 
Those  fortress  walls  of  his  inheritance. 
Nigh  such  a  change  in  life,  rung  out  this  voice, 
Like  some  wise  counsellor's  to  the  youthful  knight ; 
"  Yield  not  thy  soul  to  Earth  ;  nor  body  yet 
To  Heaven  ;  become  not  libertine,  nor  monk ; 
Strip  not,  for  naked  shame,  Heaven's  virgin  soul ; 
Nor  shroud  warm  veins  to  mourn  a  lying  death  ; 
One  thing  thy  birthright  bids  thee  be,  a  man  !  " 


POEM   THIRD. 


DOUBTING. 


FATE  gave  me  feelings  all  my  own, 
And  dreams  that  others  had  not  known, 
And  doom'd  me  thence  to  dwell  alone. 
Who  cares  for  me  in  all  the  street  ? 
Away,  away  to  drear  retreat, 
Along  the  gloom  that  throngs  through  all, 
I  feel  the  damp  and  mouldering  wall, 
And  up  the  slimy  stairway  crawl. 
I  reach  my  home,  an  attic  high, 
Wherein  I  weep,  and  watch  the  sky, 
And  in  my  melancholy  ply 
Long  day,  long  night,  and  try  to  earn 
The  strength  and  sphere  for  which  I  yearn, 
With  mouth  to  fill,  and  mind  to  learn. 
I'd  till,  to  reap  from  sweating  brain, 
Much  thought,  but,  slight  with  all  my  pain, 
It  needs  calm  nature's  sun  and  rain. 
Whate'er  I  gain  I'd  sow  again, 
But  who  can  tell  me  how  or  when 
One  cultures  self  for  grateful  men. 


88  DOUBTING: 


II. 

I  have  a  hope,  of  good  to  see 

Past  towering  gates  of  mystery, 

If  men  would  trust  the  key  to  me. 

I  have  a  hope,  earth's  poor  might  find, 

Behind  those  walls,  a  future  kind 

Where  none  are  weak,  and  none  can  bind  : 

And  yet,  I  fear,  few  let  one  be 

The  full  design  of  destiny, 

Unless  install'd  by  royalty  : 

The  common  eye  adjusts  its  glass 

With  larger  lens  to  self,  alas  ! 

And  small  and  far  seem  all  who  pass. 

There's  something  in  ordaining  grace, 

That  priest  and  prince  of  every  race 

Have  sought  through  mystic  lines  to  trace, 

Something  behind  the  sword  and  gown, 

Power  apostolic,  handed  down : 

There  are  no  wise  men  to  the  clown  : 

The  royal  mind,  in  tent  or  town, 

Owes  generous  genius  for  its  crown. 


The  whole  I  do,  it  is  no  use, 
The  while  this  devil's  cur,  abuse, 
Is  ever  barking  at  one's  heel, 
Provoking  sighs,  he  should  conceal, 
And  tripping  love  until  it  reel. 
To-day  I  ought  to  have  withstood  : 
My  aim,  oh  !  was  it  not  for  good  ? 
Why  did  I  meet  the  man  I  hate  ? 


A   POEM.  89 

Why  did  he  stand  there,  in  his  state, 
Smirk  at  me,  and  commiserate?  — 
For  anger?  —  is  that  ever  wise? 
Let  nature  speak,  spite  all  disguise, 
That  still  will  blush  to  feel  it  rise. 

IV. 

The  heart's  a  heavenly  harp  when  strung 

For  harmony  of  thought  and  tongue 

These  froward  lines  of  life  among. 

What  rallying  charm  where  tune  is  one  ! 

But  how  repelling,  such  undone ! 

Too  oft,  in  sad  comparison, 

Its  tones  relaxt  chord  not  with  others  ; 

How  can  one  hope  to  blend  with  brothers 

When  every  nerve,  in  wildest  might, 

Is  strain'd  to  equal  passion's  hight? 

Alas  !  how  jars  the  air  we  smite  ! 

How  gentle  faces  shrink  away  ! 

"  Far  better  than  the  wild  man's  lay, 

Than  discord  rousing  discord  aye, 

His  rival  mild,  tho'  wrong  !  "  they  say  : 

And  so  they  shun  one,  night  and  day. 

Oh  God  !  for  skill  that  comes  of  prayer, 

To  hear  thy  key-note  everywhere, 

Of  love,  with  melody  so  rare, 

It  leaves  no  ear  for  harsh  tone  there. 

v. 

Perhaps,  for  more  self-confidence, 
These  men  about  me,  judging  thence, 
Might  yield  my  thought  more  reverence. 


9°  DOUBTING: 

I  think  who  do  good  work  should  feel 

There's  naught  enthroned  to  make  right  kneel. 

One  may  have  swayful  temperament, 

Or  may  look  wisely,  or  be  sent 

With  deeper  worth  not  lightly  seen  ; 

The  beasts  that  kick  at  such  a  mien, 

They  must  be  whipt  from  their  disdain  ;     ' 

When  broken  once,  they'll  mind  the  rein. 

No  power  for  Worth  awaiting  place 

Till  deed  outdo  untried  disgrace. 

Awake  my  Soul !  wake  every  power 

Of  prose,  or  rhyme,  and  from  this  hour 

Let  Rest  grow  zealous !     Sleep  watch  clad  ! 

Peace  turn  a  pest !    Contentment  mad ! 

And  slander'd  Skill,  with  well  dealt  stroke, 

Conquer  its  hope  —  to  conquer  hope! 

Come  wounds  !  Come  jeers!  where  were  they  miss'd 

By  one  who  sought  the  noblest  list  ? 

Zeal  ne'er  did  sigh,  but  some  drone  hiss'd  : 

"  Be  dunce  with  me  or  egotist ! " 

Wise  World !  that  better  due  you  grudge  us, 

Years  hence,  you'll  better  understand! 

If  we  work  out  the  good,  so  judge  us ! 

If  ill,  time  then  to  heat  the  brand ! 

VI. 

This  home  of  mine,  it  is  a  place, 

More  dainty  doubts  might  deem  disgrace, 

But  not  its  hungry  populace. 

For  earth  is  small,  and  few  can  find 

The  gold  to  gild  the  life  assign 'd  ; 

And  place  is  true,  and  few  maintain 


A  POEM.  9T 

More  splendid  state  than  they  can  gain. 
At  first,  I  bore  a  wondering  mien, 
And  oft  did  mourn  when  I  had  seen 
How  man  could  boast  yet  be  obscene  ; 
But  oh!  I  feel,  as  days  wear  on, 
Vice  grown  familiar  grows  less  wan  : 
The  sting  of  sin  wears  blunt  anon  : 
One  learns  to  learn,  with  so  small  fear, 
That  love  and  life  do  not  appear 
Full-wedded,  in  this  lower  sphere, 

VII. 

At  times  the  door  will  shake  with  knock 

That  numbs  the  air  !  I  breathe  —  a  shock  ! 

I  dare  not  stay,  nor  dare  I  go 

To  welcome  in  the  drunken  foe. 

Again,  there  sounds  a  shriller  voice  : 

I  shudder,  tho'  secure  by  choice  : 

Ideals  all  unseen  by  friends, 

The  blaze  that  comes  from  holy  ends, 

All  lure  of  baser  lust  transcends. 

VIII. 

Sometimes,  at  midnight's  moody  hour, 
Mysterious  movements  overpower. 
I  saunter  out,  explore  the  hall, 
Afraid  of  each,  but  daring  all : 
'Twere  death  to  speak,  yet  would  I  call  : 
I  linger  long,  tho'  throbbing  heart 
Repeat,  —  "  Depart !  depart !  depart !  " 
Well  fearful  lest,  if  fear  shall  fill, 
Insanity,  the  glee  of  ill, 


92  DOUBTING: 

Unbend  the  bent  of  wiser  will. 

When  turn'd,  at  length,  from  all  before, 

Swift  from  beneath  me  flies  the  floor ; 

And  swift,  behind  is  barr'd  the  door, 

As  tho'  pursuing  monsters  ran 

To  scath  the  spirit,  and  the  man.  ; 

IX. 

Ah !  sad  is  life  alone,  alone, 

Too  sad  when  Thoughts,  once  proud  to  roam, 

Chided  and  whipt,  come  mourning  home 

With  their  young  ardor  overthrown ! 

There  was  a  time  when,  brave  and  bare, 

The  little  hands,  so  soft  and  spare, 

Claspt  all,  and  hoped  that  love  was  there ; 

Ungloved  by  fear,  claspt  everything, 

With  every  rose  to  grasp  a  sting, 

Then  shrank  to  shelter  suffering. 

And  what  are  now  desires  about  ? 

Oh  !  they  have  turn'd  from  deed,  to  doubt : 

They  work  within,  if  not  without : 

Oh  !  they  have  turn'd,  from  world  of  pain, 

To  that  still  world  within  the  brain, 

Of  fancy  forming  mead  and  main. 

Back  driven  from  the  sunlight  sought 

They   search   through  self !  —  ah  !    thence   have 

caught 

Some  things,  with  prime  perfection  fraught, 
There  mirror'd  'mid  mild  wells  of  thought. 
I  sometimes  think  —  it  may  not  please  — 
Restless  of  illj  it  would  appease, 
Imagination's  a  disease  ; 


A   POEM.  93 

All  deepest  truths  of  thoughtful  art, 
From  quick  throes  of  an  injured  heart, 
In  fever  to  ply  out  a  dart. 

x. 

They  call  me  morbid,  —  if  that  be 
A  hate  of  wrong  in  world  and  me, 
Love  only  for  unseen  ideal, 
And  sadness  not  to  find  it  real, 
Welcome  the  name,  whoe'er  has  given : 
Earth's  titles  cannot  bias  Heaven. 
Her  normal  moods  may  sink  and  swell, 
At  one  with  a  tide  that  bears  to  Hell ; 
Maturity  —  no  flush  decoys, 
Shown  spotless  for  too  ardent  boys  — 
Be  ashes  where  Heaven's  fire  is  spent, 
Calm,  cold,  accursed,  and  content. 

XI. 

Accepting  need,  to  dwell  alone, 
Has  one  robb'd  right,  who  shields  his  own  ? 
I've,  too,  deem'd  reticence  a  vice, 
And  to  the  thought  been  sacrifice. 
My  life,  I  gave  men,  tho'  each   nerve 
Strung  for  such  blows,  as  mean  men  serve, 
Twangled,  for  strain  that  might  deserve 
To  be  the  seventh  Hell's  harbinger ! 
My  fate,  well  mark'd,  thought  I,  '11  deter 
Like  vengeance  on  like  sufferer. 
Starting  to  plan  some  doubtful  scheme, 
"Well  frank,"  I  cried,  "with  self  the  theme, 
Fools  gibber,  goblins  of  the  dream, 


94  DOUBTING: 

But  wise  men,  for  encouragement, 
May  hear  what  shall  make  confident." 
'Twas  truth :  alas  a  world-wide  tale ! 
Not  all  can  conquer  without  mail  : 
What  spurs  the  strong  may  stab  the  frail. 

XII. 

To  restless  limbs,  calm  sleep  were  sweet: 

Who  cannot  sleep  may  scan  the  street 

To  search  for  watchmen  in  their  beat — > 

Slow  dusky  forms,  with  echoing  feet  — 

I  stretch  far  out,  I  gaze  far  round  : 

'Tis  strange  to  hear  no  human  sound !  -— 

And  be  so  distant  from  the  ground ! 

I  fancy  I  am  thrown  adowri, 

Think  how  the  news  will  stir  the  town  :  — • 

"  A  youth  was  found  stone  dead,  they  say ; 

"Ah  yes,  I  heard,  good  day:  good  day."  — 

Ho  !  ho  !  what  now  ?  why  did  I  start, 

The  window  slam,  with  blinds  apart  ? 

This  mirror  mocks !  a  queer  grimace  !  — 

Men  differ  slightly  in  the  face !  — 

And  how  might  this  a  madman  grace  ?  — 

Oh  God  !  —  but  ah  !  before  I  kneel'd 

I  found,  I  felt  that  stronger  shield, 

Where'er  Woe  bids  the  spirit  yield. 

XIII. 

How  near  proud  Reason's  regency, 
That  wild  Charybclis-craving  sea, 
That  Malstrom  of  insanity! 
We  wander  o'er  the  misty  strand  : 


A   POEM.  95 

There  swells  the  surf ;  here  stops  the  land  : 

Smooth  are  the  waters  ;  soft  the  sand  : 

"  Prude  sister  Sense,"  we  cry,  "  away  !  " 

We  wade  the  surge  !  we  feel  the  spray  ! 

We  leap  !  —  and  God  prolongs  our  day ! 

Ah !  Holy  Wisdom,  if  Thou  be 

The  Logos  from  the  Sacred  Three 

Whom  not  to  know  is  misery ; 

And  if  the  wise  in  Heaven  dwell, 

The  unwise  then  —  but  who  can  tell  ? 

May  madness  be  the  mood  of  Hell? 

Where  He  who  ruleth,  ruleth  well? 

If  fiends  with  their  accursed  breath 

Can  make  to  tremble  lungs  of  death, 

And  into  fever'd  heat  can  fan 

A  life,  for  every  wish  of  man, 

A  life,  whose  every  wish  is  pain, 

No  world  to  give,  no  limb  to  gain 

The  worldly  thing  to  satisfy, 

For  which  all  wish  is  train-d  to  vie, 

And  so,  a  worm  that  cannot  die, 

A  burning  in  a  quenchless  fire, 

An  endless  life  naught  save  desire,  — 

If  then,  the  Passions  pester'd  sore 

By  Passions'  lust  indulged  no  more, 

And  wrong  remember'd  o'er  and  o'er, 

Upspring,  and,  rousing  all  reserve 

Oust  Reason,  from  command  of  nerve, 

What  state  can  anarchy  preserve  ? 

What  state  ?  —  Oh  Christ,  I  see  it  rife  ! 

And  why  thy  Power,  from  typic  strife, 

Did  cast  out  devils  in  this  life  ! 


96  DOUBTING: 

XIV. 

Afaint  and  far,  the  midnight  bell, 

And  watchman's  cry !     With  every  knell 

Does  Conscience  speak  :  "  For  Heaven  or  Hell, 

One  day  toward  death !  and  is  all  well  ?  "  — 

How  uselessly,  through  wanton  ways, 

Men  bow  and  pass  these  stranger  Days  ; 

So  wrecks,  that  in  an  ocean  lave, 

Now  up,  now  plunged  beneath  a  wave, 

Steer  not,  one  sinking  soul  to  save. 

But  life !  —  has  life  no  nobler  state 

Than  shifting  thus  to  drift  of  fate  ? . 

Has  man  no  more  than  hulk  to  feel 

The  .lurch  of  surge  along  the  keel  ? 

Tho'  course,  oft  lightly  turn'd  about, 

Be  veer'd  away  from  stronger  doubt, 

Come  all  his  motives  from  without  ? 

Are  there  no  powers  of  deed  within, 

The  mind's  machinery  to  win, 

A  source  of  strife,  a  source  of  sin  ? 

Moves  not  the  soul  when  low  depths  thrill, 

An  image  of  perfection  still, 

And  God-like  by  creative  will  ? 

Or  yields  not  Heaven  some  gleams  to  thought, 

Some  hopes  by  Spirit- whispers  brought 

To  outspeak  fears  the  storms  have  taught, 

Till  holy  lights  far  lands  reveal 

To  guide  the  way  of  wavering  zeal 

To  that  which  mists  no  more  conceal  ? 


A   POEM.  97 

xv. 

Much  have  I  read,  how  deep  the  vale 
Whence  some  have  heard  high  Fortune  hail, 
Who,  seizing  sword  and  shield  and  mail, 
Have  found  the  power  to  wound  the  wrong, 
To  dash  aside  its  lances  long, 
And  press  between  its  yielding  throng  ; 
Till,  helmet  bright  by  brunt  so  vast, 
Wrapt  Wonder  linger'd  where  they  pass'd, 
And  older  Glory  shunn'd  the  last. 
Anon  they  stood  above  the  throng, 
Immortal  as  the  woe  of  wrong, 
The  light  and  lure  of  all  the  strong : 
There  peace  with  power  forever  dwells  : 
A  grateful  world  their  story  tells: 
Whoe'er  repels,  all  love  refels : 
And  victory  swells  unenvied  bells. 

XVI. 

Yes,  all  made  men  are  self-made  men; 
We  ask  too  much  of  friendship  then : 
The  soul's  best  impulse,  in  the  end, 
Is  evermore  the  soul's  best  friend. 
Truth  whisper'd  only  to  our  spirit, 
Why  mourn,  tho'  none  beside  us  hear  it? 
With  honor  craved,  let  one  be  strong 
For  worth  to  make  dishonor  wrong: 
Or  if  a  sceptre,  let  one  find 
A  task  befitting  sovereign  mind. 
No  low  ambition  they  work  out 
Who  seek,  with  energy  devout, 
7 


98  DOUBTING: 

A  deed  to  match  God's  gift  of  will, 
With  thankful  heart,  remembering  still 
That  shallow  depths  are  first  to  fill, 
And  want  is  not  yet  stored  with  ill. 

XVII. 

While  men  with  self  are  satisfied, 
The  things  that  are,  they  must  abide : 
And  but  to-day  what  is  is  best : 
To-morrow  all  must  move  for  rest. 
Yet  ne'er  o'er  darkness  had  begun 
One  truth  its  shining  course  to  run 
But  snakes  crawl  'd  out  to  hiss  the  sun  : 
'•'  Who's  seen  the  like  ?  have  you  ?  have  you  ?  "  - 
"  No  never,  no,  my  whole  life  through  !  "  — 
"  A  plague  to  Job  !  it  will  not  do ! "  — 
Why  should  men  greet  with  reverence, 
A  thought  beyond  experience  ? 
It  were  a  libel  on  their  sense  ! 
Lo !  in  Earth's  bigot  brotherhood, 
The  fools  alone  are  understood  : 
And  only  stupid  people  good. 
But  while  the  rest  are  dozing  late, 
Genius,  quick-sighted  for  her  fate, 
Will  wonder,  wish,  and  work,  and  wait : 
Her  aim,  far  fixt  for  looming  schemes, 
Apart  from  those  the  world  esteems  :  — 
Else  would  she  know  but  common  themes  :  — 
We  are  not  always  curst,  when  sent 
By  throes  of  nature's  discontent 
1    To  abnormal  development: 

We  are  not  curst  till  we  consent. 


A   POEM.  99 

The  Faiths  that  die,  first  cease  to  dare. 
Best,  if  one  beacon  guide  life  there, 
Snatch  hope  from  talons  of  despair, 
And  welcome  flight  with  fancies  fair. 
In  the  vague  light  of  ages  old, 
The  poets  were  the  first  who  told 
The  truths  to  make  late  logic  bold. 

XVIII. 

If  unveil'd  vision  could  divine 

The  road  that  winds  this  mount  of  Time, 

And  view,  but  once,  in  clear  outline, 

The  glory  at  the  summit's  prime  ; 

And  gaze  below  where  foul  mists  creep 

Along  black  waters  of  the  deep, 

Note  slippery  stones  to  trip  the  feet, 

And  crags  to  crush  the  indiscreet, 

How  closely  would  one  watch  and  tread 

The  narrow,  narrow  path  ahead !  t  j 

But  oh !  should  he  discover  trace 

Of  one  supremely  dangerous  place, 

Through  thought  of  others  in  the  race, 

He  might  forget  himself,  and  try, 

Spite  plains  too  wide,  and  hills  too  high, 

To  sound  alarm  with  warning  cry. 

What  tho'  the  Earth  should  deem  him  fool, 

Fanatic,  fiend,  Chimera's  tool  ! 

Or  hang  to  tree  for  witchery! 

If  body  but  swung  o'er  the  danger,    ~ 

Sweet  dreams  might  date  from  deed  of  grace. 

Corpses,  there  are,  can  tell  the  stranger 

What  might  have  flush'd  o'er  living  face. 


ioo  DOUBTING: 

Better  Isaiah  sawn  in  two 

Than  life  complete  with  nought  to  do 

But  lounge  a  useless  journey  through. 

XIX. 

Woe  me !  I  boast,  but  cannot  be  ! 

I  may  work  words,  whine  out  a  plea 

Capricious  as  all  misery, 

What  then  ?  —  can  screaming  scare  off  pain  ? 

Only  a  rattle  of  restless  brain, 

What  do  rhymes  buy  ?  whence  comes  their  gain  ? 

There  is  no  gain  to  earth  but  gold  : 

All  bright  paths  hold  but  a  bruted  fold. 

Each  jingles  his  jewels  to  bob  and  beck, 

Like  a  bull  with  a  bell  bound  over  his  neck. 

With  mob  and  snob,  how  can  it  vie, 

A  poet's  protest  to  the  lie  ? 

Like  children  caught  in  pastures  lone, 

Truth's  noblest  forms,  to  beasts  unknown, 

Are  gored  and  trampled  and  left  to  moan. 

I  search  for  gold  :  'tis  full  noon-time  : 

And  only  those  who  try  to  climb 

Can  know  how  far  these  hights  of  rhyme  : 

Too  slow  I  go  who  wait  for  bread  : 

Too  hard  my  task:  my  strength  is  sped: 

My  health  is  gone :  I  shall  be  dead  : 

And  leave  all  life's  report  unsaid. 

xx. 

*   What  can  I  do  ?  —  compared  with  me 
The  slaves  I  once  did  think  to  free 
Are  kings  !     These  chains  to  liberty 


A   POEM.  10 1 

In  one's  own  conscience  clamp,  to  pest 
Who  would,  but  dare  not,  do  his  best, 
While  Truth  falls  dazzled  by  renown, 
Or  Hunger  fawns  to  gilded  crown. 
What  can  I  do  ?     What  have  I  done  ? 
Oh  God !  where,  where  is  good  begun  ?  — 
With  charity  and  wisdom  one, 
God  —  He  may  leave  the  too  self-wise 
To  rear  for  self  both  soil  and  skies, 
To  fume  defects,  like  fogs  that  rise 
From  ill-drain'd  pools,  and  shade  for  lies 
All  boasted  visions  one  may  trust : 
A  man,  thus  blind,  may  be  unjust ; 
Where  he,  descrying  forms  at  bay, 
Cries  down  vague  lions  in  the  way, 
The  keener  glance  of  healthy  sight 
May  find  but  safest  paths  to  right. 
A  man  who  hears  not  well  may  fear 
The  restless  rumbling  of  his  ear, 
His  own  diseased  and  faithless  ear, 
And  dream  that  strife  is  marshaling. 
For  Prejudice  in  everything 
Conjures  what  worst  is  rivaling. 

XXI. 

Why  should  I  gaze,  to  blame  the  earth, 
When  I  am  woe,  and  it  is  mirth  ? 
These  men,  they  live,  to  joke  and  dance, 
To  feast  and  sing  and  sport  at  chance, 
In  happy  homes,  all  hush'd  from  strife, 
To  love  and  rest  with  child  and  wife  ; 
While  I,  like  quack  physician  trying 


102  DOUBTING: 

Poisons  on  self,  apart  am  lying, 

Martyr  to  what  needs  not  the  dying !  — 

What  scouts  a  sickly  man's  idea, 

Too  well  to  test  his  panacea ! 

Oh!  can  there  be  a  wisdom  whence 

Not  through  another's  say  or  sense, 

But  through  their  own  experience 

Men  learn  the  space  'twixt  earth  and  sky  ? 

What  folly  then  moves  such  as  I ! 

Wild  wish  is  mine,  too  long  pursued : 

I  follow,  but  to  worsen  feud, 

A  phantom  ;  or  earth  can't  be  righted. 

Come  good  by  other  course  incited. 

When  into  doubtful  paths  they  stray, 

The  wise  turn  back  :  they're  fools  that  stay, 

Consistent  —  for  that  title  lacks, 

Where  wisdom  grows  and  change  attacks, 

Consistent  —  monomaniacs  ! 

XXII. 

Grand  it  is  new  life  to  borrow, 
Like  a  Spirit  dead  to  sorrow, 
Dead  to  all  Earth's  dread  to-morrow, 
And,  awake  to  realm  of  laughter, 
Rise  from  grief  before  and  after. 
Hail  to  wit,  the  wine  is  bringing ! 
Hail  to   song  from  sadness  winging! 
Music  hail !  when,  down  from  ceiling, 
Bright  as  heaven  where  stars  are  wheeling, 
Echoes  bound  to  earth,  there  dealing 
Daze  and  dance  to  sight  and  feeling ! 
When  such  joyous  moments  coy  us, 
Why  should  graver  thoughts  annoy  us ! 


A   POEM.  103 

On  the  dance !    But  ah !  this  dancing  !  — 

It  were  better  if  entrancing 

From  the  soul-life  were  appealing 

'Mid  the  blaze  and  buzz  and  wheeling, 

And  no  lower  range  of  feeling ! 

When  her  best  ideals  lure  her, 

Only  then  can  forms  assure  her 

That  the  soul  is  growing  purer. 

How  can  pride  of  sense  or  spirit, 

For  the  public  eyes  that  leer  it, 

Be  embraced  and  never  sneer  it  ? 

Press'd  to  breast  and  never  fear  it  ?  — 

Pugh  !  — just  there  the  inn-maids  head  them 

Spite  pa's  debts,  to  deck  and  wed  them  ! 

Back  to  music  !     Ah !  the  music 
Seems  all  holy  when  we  muse  it ! 
Surely  woe  could  n^ver  use  it! 
All  our  life  we  start  and  wonder 
What  the  blunder  in  this  under 
World  woke  Heaven  to  voice  of  thunder  — 
But  'tis  there !  —  and  strong  to  sunder 
Like  the  storms  that  gather  madly 
Round  the  days  that  dawn  all  gladly, 
'Twixt  the  heart  and  heavens,  sadly 
Steal  on  holy  harmonies 
Thoughts  from  where  no  music  is. 

Back  to  feast !     Hurrah  !  they  cheer  it ! 
Here's  to  health!  —  What!  don't  they  hear  it? 
Here's  to  health!  —  What!  dare  they  jeer  it? 
Lo !  they  tremble !  do  they  fear  it  ? 


104  DOUBTING: 

Hark  !  —  My  soul !  —  a  man  has  tumbled  !  — 
There's  a  beast!  and  God  is  humbled  !- 
Weeps  a  wife  that  ne'er  is  sleeping  ! 
Children,  her  thin  hands  are  keeping !- 
Waits  a  grave  where  none  are  weeping! 

Back  from  Earth!     There's  no  fruit  in  it 
Fit  to  peel !     When  you  begin  it, 
Curst,  you  find  a  worm  within  it !  — 
Fiend  aWay !     Who'll  hold  ?  —  I  never - 
That  a  devil's  hoof  should  ever 
Roil  all  springs  for  faint  endeavor ! 
'Tis  our  eye  that  sees  no  season: 
'Tis  our  ear  that  heeds  no  reason : 
'Tis  our  touch  turns  joy  to  treason, 
Joy,  no,  never  meant  to  curse  us, 
But  design'd  to  nerve  and  nurse  us. 
Oh  for  Right  to  reimburse  us, 
Dawning  for  such  day  above  all, 
Heaven   should   guide,  where    good    could  love 
.   all! 

XXIII. 

Sad  from  self-satiety, 

Why  should  one  shun  society  ? 

Ah  there  awake,  from  dark  dejection, 

Those  dismal  dreams  of  introspection  ! 

There,  'mid  the  tramp  of  multitudes, 

God  too  communes  through  many  moods, 

For  much  that  were  not  understood 

Where  self  with  self  alone  did  brood. 

And  better  idiot,  'stride  a  chair, 


A   POEM.  105 

Dreaming  a  kingdom  out  of  air, 
With  stock-still  statues  for  hussars, 
With  sca*rfs  of  knighthood  but  the  scars 
Deep-whipt  across  a  bleeding  back, 
Than  be  a  man  whose  soul  must  lack 
The  train  that  waits  on  Friendship's  throne, 
For  manhood's  kingship,  Love  alone. 

XXIV. 

Blest  Love,  it  reigns  in  Heavenly  hight : 
It  reigns  on  earth  :  but  mark  its  might !  — 
I'd  have  no  friend,  in  dark  or  light, 
Whose  love  embraced  not  love  of  right. 
Life's  changeful  times  need  righteous  mood 
To  judge  of  mien  not  understood 
By  faith  remembering  former  good, 
Faith  man  as  well  as  God  demands 
From  soul  that  nearest  to  him  stands. 
Full  oft  one's  doubt  or  danger  could 
Express  no  purpose,  if  it  would, 
Yet  then  one  likes  to  be  thought  good? 
And  oft  there  comes  a  need  of  rest, 
But  earth  is  like  a  sick  bird's  nest, 
All  beaks  of  fellows  at  one's  breast. 
Strange  cure  !  —  yet  'tis  an  old  complaint  — 
Much,  much  of  love,  when  only  faint, 
Is  peckt  to  death  to  make  a  saint. 

XXV. 

Know !  in  the  soul's  a  deal  of  yearning 
That  silent  thought  is  slowly  turning 
To  deepest  and  to  highest  learning, 


106  DOUBTING: 

That  can't  play  mistress  to  a  Why! 
Life,  like  the  sailor,  steers  to  sky, 
If  mists,  offscourings  of  the  sea, 
Conceal  the  brightness  on  the  lea, 
It  fails  in  reckoning,  may  be  ; 
Then  ye  of  little  faith,  oh  why 
Crowd  ye,  like  passengers  who  fly 
In  fright  to  captain,  but  to  ply 
A  failure,  miracle,  or  lie  ? 

XXVI. 

Ah!  in  our  good  society 
Lies  are  a  link  to  sympathy ! 
And  hearts  with  widest  difference 
Tickled  and  one  at  touch  of  sense  ! 
Yet  all  true  love,  it  loves  the  soul, 
And  naught  more  lovely  can  control 
Than  Nature  frank  itself  to  dole. 
Let  foe  desert  such,  friendship  dwells, 
Nor  fears  in  truth,  behind  false  spells, 
What  saddens  sight  of  beaus  and  belles. 
I've  seen  a  man  and  maid,  to-day, 
Splashing  each  other's  eyes  with  spray  : 
Enough  had  he,  from  depth  obscene, 
To  please  my  lady's  wistful  mien, 
Not  vicious  all,  but  proud  I  ween 
Of  vice  the  patron,  wide  of  eyes 
For  him  on  whom  the  shamed  relies  — 
Lust  has  such  luscious  flatteries  ! 
And  wit  it  wakes,  a  dash  of  danger 
With  one  who's  in  the  mart,  a  ranger ! 
Of  spice  it  smacks,  while  he's  a  stranger, 


A   POEM.  107 

While  he's  a  knave  and  she's  a  flirt, 

And  if  they  marry,  for  dessert 

Will  find  life's  game,  dish'd  up  in  dirt  ! 

XXVII. 

Who  culls  the  grain  of  friendship  knows 

There's  little  natural  now  that  grows, 

There's  little  yield  except  of  stalk, 

A  hot-house  flowering  of  talk 

From  hot-house  friendship,  with  the  root 

So  little  in  the  soul,  'twill  suit 

Quite  well  to  have  so  little  fruit. 

The  usual  weed's  a  gossip-shoot, 

The  toadstool  from  what's  rotten  there. 

A  gossip  is  a  scavenger 

Of  other  people's  character, 

And  to  a  man  of  finer  sense, 

Brought  up  with  care  in  purer  air, 

Disgusting  are  the  sediments. 

XXVIII. 

They  scarcely  let  one  rest  in  bed, 
With  all  their  whispers  round  him  sped,  — 
Of  stupid  born  and  sparely  bred. 
Weak  tribunes  of  strong  character, 
Too  snuggish  friends,  I  do  aver, 
Throng  every  mart,  and  boast  an  ear 
Well  hugg'd  against  the  heart,  to  hear 
Each  secret  lull  and  throbbing  dear. 
Why  silent  not  of  things  unknown  ? 
Why  force,  by  tales  one  cannot  own, 
To  leave  too  blusterous  love  alone  ? 


io8  DOUBTING: 

Rather  than  figure  as  the  fool 

I  could  inoculate,  nor  pule, 

The  chronic  kicking  of  the  mule ! 

Play  owl,  night's  nightmare,  with  a  toot 

Selfish  enough  to  scandal  brute  ! 

And  rouse  one  universal  hoot ! 

Ay,  Earth,  it  is  so  full  of  fangs, 

To  save  myself  from  probe  and  pangs, 

I've  shrunk  again  from  its  harangues, 

In  garret  here,  like  Death  in  clouds, 

Forever  grateful  there  are  shrouds 

Hide  worms  beneath  that  coil'd  and  crost 

From  Heaven,  half  Heaven  from  what  is  lost. 

XXIX. 

Yet,  'tis  not  wholly  misery 

To  be  bereft  of  sympathy ! 

Perchance,  a  wise  Omnipotence 

Discloses  surface  difference 

For  unity  in  deeper  sense. 

There  is  a  life  below  this  strife 

That  feels  the  tender  infancy 

Of  something  grander  yet  to  be. 

There  winds  do  whisper  wish  and  speech, 

And  shades  and  shapes  have  reveries  each 

That  guide  Interpretation,  driven' 

By  prophecy,  in  ecstasy 

To  match  pure  moods  of  Earth  with  Heaven. 

Perchance,  when  forced  to  gaze  above 

For  life's  completed  boon  of  love, 

Glimpses  appear  of  what  should  be, 

Till  God  who  must  for  aye  decree 


A   POEM.  109 

Presence  to  those  in  sympathy 

Trails  robes  of  Truth  to  yearning  hours, 

Lighting  to  right,  and  luring  powers. 

XXX. 

Of  late,  when  I  am  all  alone, 

I  pause,  and  bend  before  the  throne 

Of  my  delight,  Philosophy ! 

A  page  of  her  bright  train  am  I ! 

With  eager  soul,  but  patient  eye, 

I  hie  to  every  moving  thing, 

Thence  to  report  of  life  the  spring ! 

I  fancy  earth  as  fire  —  or  air  — 

Or  mind  itself,  so  conjuring  there  : 

I  press  against  the  window  pane, 

Ask  —  feels  the  nerve?  or  feels  the  brain? 

What  spans  this  space  'twixt  sense  and  soul  ? 

Faith  ?  or  the  Absolute  ?  or  whole 

From  flow  and  ebb  of  thoughts  that  roll  ?  — 

Am  I  who  muse  eternally, 

Without  responsibility, 

The  vagrant  wave  of  some  vast  sea  ? 

Or  am  I  all  j  and  earth  a  lie  ? 

And  nothing  better  past  the  sky  ? 

These  things  about  not  what  they  seem  ? 

And  even  life  itself  a  dream  ?  — 

Conies,  truth,  I  seek  through  reason  clear  ? 

Or  does  short  sight,  with  organs  blear, 

See  all  things  falsely  looming  here  ? 

Then  flashes  right,  like  lightning  glance  ? 

Or  dawns  it  o'er  some  dozy  trance  ?  — 

Shall  one  know  more  when  earth  is  done  ? 


no  DOUBTING: 

Reach  misery  ?  or  oblivion  ? 

Or  through  some  mystic,  spiral  way, 

Mount  Babel  bright  to  bliss  for  aye?  — 

XXXI. 

Hold  !  Logic  labors  but  to  spy 

What  those  who  gaze  with  scrutiny 

Detect  as  ancient  heresy ! 

Does  Church  or  State  then  speak  the  right  ? 

Or  is  it  better  found  by  sight 

Of  conscience  ?  or  of  laws  that  bless  ? 

Or  noblest  wish  ?  or  happiness  ? 

When  started  once  in  plainer  ways, 

The  path,  it  winds  amid  a  maze 

Where  things  of  hate  wake  wish  unjust, 

And  naught !  oh !  naught  is  left  to  trust ! 

Then  why  search  I  save  what  is  nigh? 

These  earthly  eyes  can  never  spy 

Above  where  God  lifts  up  the  sky ! 

XXXII. 

Ah!  He  who  rules  the  sky  rules  dell! 
Whate'er  I  doubt,  I  know  full  well 
Who  made  the  soul,  must  it  impel ; 
And,  tho'  the  way  were  black  as  Hell, 
He  moved  to  truth,  who  could  but  feel 
His  pathway  true  to  true  ideal. 
When  sweet  and  ceaseless  calls  appeal, 
One  cannot,  dare  not  turn  away. 
What  tho'  the  victory  long  delay ! 
A  power  courageous  in  the  fray 
To  rattle  rhymes,  or  beat  a  drum, 


A   POEM.  Ill 

May  rouse  up  spirit  by  the  hum,  — 
That  spirit  for  the  right  at  war 
The  whole  this  life  is  given  for !  — 
Yes  !  there  is  truth,  I  oft  have  thought, 
One  finds  when  he  has  only  sought ! 

XXXIII. 

Alas !  but  still  desire  will  sink, 

Amort  of  misery  to  think 

'Tis  now  full  nigh  six  thousand  years 

Since  Lamech  rhymed  away  his  fears, 

And  men  have  search'd  all  earth  about 

Nor  is  there  yet  one  less  of  doubt. 

Oh  what  can  later  poet  say 

That  he  has  found  to  aid  the  way? 

Or  how  a  later  poet  know 

If  good  or  ill  have  made  him  so  ? 

Would  God  !  some  eye  to  scan  the  whole 

Could  but  reveal  what  lures  the  soul, 

With  power  that  self  cannot  control, 

Through  these  long  days  and  sleepless  nights, 

So  weary,  weary  from  delights  ! 

Why  should  a  sense  that  shrinks  from  sight 

Press  out,  to  push  itself  in  light, 

A  target  bright  for  baser  blight? 

Where  all  things  one  can  hope  are  good, 

All  gleams  of  individual  mood, 

Are  flouted,  or  misunderstood  ? 

I'd  not  wink  greatness,  if  I  could  :  — 

Alive,  a  wonder-animal 

Poked  up  by  all  things  rational, 

Barr'd  back  from  truth  by  scrutiny, 


112  DOUBTING: 

From  love  by  inequality :  — 

When  dead,  with  bones  dress'd  out  to  be 

The  puppet  of  biography, 

Forced  now  to  dance  too  high,  too  low, 

Too  blest  for  friend,  too  base  for  foe 

To  please  the  men  who  make  him  go ; 

For  ill  with  good  immortal  years, 

That  ill  the  humbler  never  fears 

From  lands  beyond  this  vale  of  tears. 

Ye  fools,  with  faith  in  fame,  relent ! 

Ah !  this  was  never  what  they  meant, 

Those  men  of  truth  whose  footsteps  went 

Through  life  that  was  one  long  ascent, 

They  looked  beyond  a  monument! 


My  mind  seem'd  wild  from  wilder'd  thought. 
I  paced  the  stilly  night,  and  sought 
Rest  from  the  rest  about,  above, 
Something  to  teach  me  more  of  love. 
I  reach'd  a  church,  with  open  door, 
Whence  strains  along  the  air  did  pour, 
The  air  that  trembled,  as  it  bore 
This  sacred  sound  of  holy  lore : 

xxxv. 

"  God  of  Heaven,  and  man  of  manger, 
Jesus,  heed  the  need  of  stranger, 
Wander'd  far  in  way  of  danger, 
Wise  no  longer  where  to  flee. 
Holy  Source  of  love  and  learning, 
Hear  a  soul  whose  doubt  is  yearning, 
From  despair  and  anguish  turning, 
Turning  only  unto  Thee. 


A   POEM.  H3 

'  Not  regarding  means  or  measure, 
I  have  sought  through  pain  and  pleasure, 
What  the  world  can  give  to  treasure, 

But  alas  !  all  fail  to  be, 
By  the  deep  love  of  Thy  mission, 
By  the  deeds  for  high  ambition, 
By  the  gains  of  full  fruition, 

Aught  that  Thou  dost  promise  me. 

From  my  guilt  and  from  pollution 
I  have  wrought  for  restitution 
Through  the  skill  of  resolution, 

All  my  will  proves  false  to  me. 
Far  beyond  my  best  endeavor 
Peace  and  pardon  find  I  never, 
Never  love  and  right  together : 

Thou  hast  promised  liberty. 

Past  the  methods  and  the  mazes 
That  the  search  of  science  dazes, 
Past  the  knowledge  and  the  praises 

That  the  earth  can  give  to  me, 
From  the  farthest  hights  of  learning, 
My  desires  must  still  be  turning 
Toward  the  stars  forever  burning, 
Heaven  and  immortality. 

'  What  can  faith  do  ?  —  Lord,  I  feel  it  ; 
Bible,  History,  Thought  reveal  it : 
Christian  lives  and  conscience  seal  it :  — 

All  true  life  begins  with  Thee! 

Base  of  wish  and  low  of  thinking, 

From  each  nobler  duty  shrinking, 

And  with  strength  impair'd  and  sinking, 

Where  beside  can  sinner  flee  ? 

'  What  if  heart  can  boast  no  feeling, 
Languid  through  its  need  of  healing, 
8 


114  DOUBTING: 

Fill'd  with  pride  still,  still  concealing 

Self  and  self-made  misery  ? 
When  my  soul  has  seen  Christ  dying, 
When  has  heard  His  prayer  and  sighing, 
Oh,  it  feels  that  Love  replying 

Lingers  not  for  worth  in  me. 

"Nay!  with  Thine,  all  love  possesses! 
Nay  !  with  Thine,  all  truth  progresses ! 
Nay  !  with  Thine,  all  pure  life  blesses  ! 

Thou  canst  be  all  things  in  me ! 
Oh,  take,  Lord,  my  Heart's  donation, 
All  I  own,  in  each  relation, 
Only  to  Thy  free  salvation 

Would  I  longer  dare  to  flee  !  " 

XXXVI. 

Scarce  into  silence  sank  the  song, 
Before  came  forth,  in  accents  strong, 
That  calmed  the  rustling  of  the  throng 
As  words  of  "  peace  !  "  above  the  sea 
When  hush'd  the  troubled  Galilee, 

A  text ! and  I,  who  stood  there  hearing, 

I  too  felt  calmness  come  to  fearing, 

A  depth  of  peace  reflecting  of  devotion 

As  heaven  from  lake  where  lingers  no  commotion 

And  like  to  voyager  with  memory 

Still  fresh  to  moods  that  mused  a  peaceful  sea, 

Does  that  then  heard  and  felt  remain  to  me. 

XXXVII. 

"  '  The  Truth  —  The  Truth  shall  make  you  free  ! '     Our  souls 
Feel  conscious  of  subjection.     Throned  o'er  act 
And  wish,  they  feel  a  Power  to  punish  them 


A   POEM.  115 

And  prompt  obedience.     Men  name  this  Power 

In  varied  terms  —  their  conscience,  their  ideal  : 

All  hold  it  Truth,  a  Truth  revealing  laws 

For  nature,  circumstance  and  destiny  : 

And,  by  as  much  as  few  live  true  to  it, 

By  so  much  few  can  fail  to  feel  it  chide. 

To  all  who  would  escape  it  it  is  proved, 

By  Omnipresence,  not  produced  by  self's 

Reluctant  will ;  and,  by  its  claims  on  love, 

Akin  to  personal  authority 

With  source  no  fancy,  nor  abstract  idea, 

But  concrete  life  altho'  a  Spirit  life. 

And  when  one  man  of  holy  deed  declares 

Himself  the  King  of  Kings,  the  Spirit's  Lord, 

'  I  am  the  Truth  ! '  why  should  Faith  doubt  the  word  ? 

If  miracles  and  prophecies  sustain'd, 

If  progress  of  the  years  confirm  the  claim, 

Seems  Truth  in  Person  strange  ?     Has  earth  no  need, 

No  deep  desire  for  one  to  incarnate 

This  spiritual  sway,  that  He  be  model  ? 

And  teach  pure  laws  inspired  to  guide  toward  right  ? 

And  in  the  soul  incite  what  germinates, 

And  grows,  and  bears  fruit  for  the  Spirit's  life  ? 

Oh  ye  !  with  conscience  sad  for  thought  or  deed, 

If  sadness  do  result  from  Power  Divine, 

Think  not  without  deep  change  to  'scape  the  state 

That  He  ordains.     Such  effort  fails.     The  laws 

Of  Truth  but  work  your  wrath  :  all  strife  to  spite 

But  works  your  hatred,  like  to  rebel's  strife 

That  but  makes  clear  a  king's  authority. 

The  Truth  can  never  change.     'Tis  ye  must  change 

To  love  its  rightful  rule.     Ay,  once  love  Truth, 

All  duty  shall  be  freedom.     See  this  Truth, 

Through  Truth  Incarnate  dying  on  the  cross  ; 

Learn  thence  how  much  of  love  there  is  in  God  ; 

Learn  that  from  Him  comes  all  to  make  life  blest ; 

E'en  while  you  learn,  instinct   as  nature,  Love 

Shall  follow  Him,  the  while  His  Spirit  prompts 


n6  DOUBTING: 

And  cause  pure  deeds,  obedient  to  each  law 
Without  this  goading  consciousness  of  sin  ! 
Would  you  be  free,  incarnate  Truth  in  self, 
His  Spirit  of  all  Truth,  Heaven  cannot  bind  ! 

"  Reach  freedom  thus  for  Nature  in  desires. 
Oh  !  have  you  never  felt  that  heart  of  life 
Which,  through  the  unseen  arteries  and  veins 
Of  Spiritual  Being,  still  propels 
An  Omnipresent  ebb  and  flow  of  Love  ?  — 
Desires  that  search  far  off  in  thoughts,  that  steal 
Stillness  from  sleep,  and  rest  from  reverie  ?  — 
The  lonely  wishes  of  the  single  soul, 
Oppress'd  from  sense  of  sunder'd  sympathy, 
Struggling  to  meet  the  universal  Whole  ?  — 
Dream  not  to  sate  these  wants  by  earthly  gains  ! 
Impell'd  to  such,  the  boy  would  be  a  man  ; 
Maids  blush  for  maidenhood  ;  and  lovers  kneel  ; 
Then  fiercely  strive  for  wealth !  and  power !  and  fame 
Aiming  at  fullness  still  beyond  their  reach, 
Till  wasted  strength  shrinks  back  infirm  of  zeal, 
Or  holds  all  earth,  to  feel  e'en  that  too  small, 
All  Alexander's  pride  but  vanity  ! 
For  oh  !  Desire,  it  seeks  the  Infinite  ; 
The  life  of  nature,  not  the  make  of  art ; 
To  be  at  one  with  God,  the  Life  of  Truth  !  — 
And  need  ye  ask  what  Power  can  join  to  God  ?  — 
Ah  His,  who  bore  our  sins  that  faith  be  free 
From  fear  of  justice  and  from  doubt  of  love 
And  learn  of  character  first  blest  above, 
His  Truth  shall  bring  desire  to  liberty ! 

"  Reach  freedom  thus  for  Nature's  destined  deeds. 
Poor  finite,  frail  and  over-burden'd  soul, 
Be  not  abash'd  of  self.     Truth  shall  succeed. 
Here  is  a  place  where  weakness,  well  confess'd, 
Surrenders  naught.     Nay!  nay!  it  chooses  part 
Where  Pride  could  ne'er  attain  nobility ! 


A   POEM.  117 

Where  Self  kneels  down,  to  rise,  a  royal  priest 

In  the  grand  chancel  of  Humanity ! 

Before  its  shrine,  there's  no  one,  not  the  least, 

But  has  his  mission,  station'd  between  Earth 

And  Heaven,  half  spirit,  half  mortality, 

To  take  that  loan  of  life  receiv'd  at  birth,  — 

Its  germ,  its  growth,  and  all  its  varied  grain,  — 

And  offer  it,  like  to  that  greater  Priest 

Who  offered  more,  a  willing  sacrifice 

Upon  that  altar  where  this  human  soul 

Is  put  to  test  of  strife  with  Heaven-sent  flames  ; 

Then  from  experience,  his  lone  legacy, 

To  cull  tried  relics  of  the  Spirit's  life, 

Deep  worth  disclosed,  and  preservations  grand 

Of  common  things  our  use  profaner  slights  ; 

And  dower'd  with  these,  before  all  earth  to  stand, 

Sacred  of  self  for  what  the  self  reveals, 

Both  victim  and  the  seer,  hushing  Earth's  fears- 

And  doubtful  murmurs  by  sublime  appeals 

Taught  through  the  language  of  life's  work  fulfill'd. 

Oh  ye !  who  crave  faith,  faith  in  what  ye  are, 

No  selfish  wish  need  that  be,  if  ye  crave 

No  praise  for  frailties  known,  but  shun  afar 

With  .equal  dread  false  flatteries  and  frowns  ! 

On  !     Onward  still !     God  speed  ye,  restless  souls  ! 

Claim  manhood's  mission,  clear  acknowledgment 

Of  royal  priesthood !  honor  for  your  truth  ! 

And,  with  your  own,  the  world's  development ! 

"  Live  self!  but  not  for  self,  remembering  aye 
For  one,  for  all,  the  Truth  brings  liberty ! 
For  self,  free  hearts,  free  hands ;  for  others,  charity ! 
It  is  no  selfish  bearing  slights  repute 
In  Godly  consciousness  of  Truth  ideal. 
Still  more  and  more  do  heirs  of  higher  weal, 
With  lips  to  worldly  blame  and  praises  mute, 
Love  each  in  each  the  Truth  that  makes  all  free. 
Ah  !  when  men  learn  how  Infinite  that  is, 


n8  DOUBTING: 

And  how  diverse  on  earth  its  ministries, 

There  is  a  reverence  here  for  word  and  deed  ; 

If  one  but  feel  Truth  gains  the  victory, 

A  soul  contented,  e'en  though  self  may  fail  : 

Or  if  one  feel  Lie  thrives,  still  strong  is  faith 

From  love  more  Lord-like,  while  afar  yet  near, 

Less  than  whole  love,  but  more  than  interest, 

Love  that  can  waive  a  full  complacency 

In  deference  to  the  worth  each  may  attain, 

And  thoughts  of  Christ,  prompting  to  missions  here 

With  help  for  all  who  need,  and  hope  that  shall  be  blest ! 51 

XXXVIII. 

Have    I   found   faith  ?  —  The    faith    my   life  did 

covet 

I  deem  shall  come  not  all  through  thinking  of  it. 
It  may  be,  'spite  the  monk's  abstraction, 
The  consciousness  of  life  is  action, 
And  goodly  grain  is  best  reveal'd 
Not  far  from  harvest  plain  conceal'd, 
But  to  the  one  who  tills  the  field. 
Ah,  tho'  I  may  still  doubt,  I  know 
Of  prayer  when  Heavens  do  overflow 
For  showers  of  bliss,  e'en  though  below. 
And  Words  I  read  of  truthful  prime 
That  do  not  sound  like  words  of  Time, 
In  joy  or  sorrow  all  sublime. 
And  Love  I  watch  that  springs  apace, 
Through  sun  and  storm  alike  to  trace, 
And  all  who  live  it  grow  in  grace. 


A   POEM.  119 

XXXIX. 

Do  these  suffice?  —  I  think,  perchance, 

That  where  these  lines  of  Truth  advance 

Man  has  not  right  of  ordinance. 

Oh !  if  it  be  Experience 

Need  rescue  wish  from  negligence 

In  thought  or  deed,  the  long  years  hence 

May  prove  all  blows  but  benefit 

From  which  wise  Doubt  learns  to  submit ; 

From  which  an  unwise  Trust  in  it, 

While  fails  some  low  support  of  love, 

Is  slowly  taught  to  look  above. 

Earth  needs  that  lesson!  I  descry 

Who  glorify  the  Lord  on  high 

Reveal  His  beauty  through  their  own, 

And  purify  the  men  who  vie 

Attracted  by  the  God-like  shown. 

XL. 

With  soul  not  shown,  too  much  of  art 
Is  made  for  lips  to  fit  the  heart. 
Not  skill  to  chide  another's  pride 
Shall  make  one  wise  or  welcome  guide. 
Who  best  provokes  to  patient  deed 
First  traces  best  his  own  first  need. 
Be  his  need  great,  and  other's  small, 
He  may  be  less  yet  more  than  all. 
Nay  all,  perchance,  have  equal  call 
With  ill  to  bear,  and  good  to  share, 
And,  whether  it  be  full  or  spare, 
Some  truth  to  show  the  Christ-like  there. 


120  DOUBTING:    A   POEM. 

Let  then  the  Spirit's  voice  be  heard, 
Tho',  like  to  warbled  wish  of  bird, 
Wise  only  through  vague  sounds  of  word, 
The  men  who  hear  and  turn  to  sky 
I  will  believe,  if  love  be  nigh, 
Are  blest  tho'  heaving  but  a  sigh. 
Who  wants  to  fill  the  earthly  throne 
Birth  gave  him  not !  far  better  own 
One's  self,  and  live  one's  self  alone. 


FA. 

YOUNG  was  the  village  pastor  for  his  work  ; 
And  young  his  wooings  of  well  worded  thought, 
Offer'd  as  some  young  beau  presents  his  hand, 
As  tho'  high  color'd  kids  held  first  of  rank 
With  her  whose  heart  he'd  lure  to  Paradise  ! 
So  far  in  life,  study,  meant  most  for  brain, 
And  healthy  growth,  where  heart  fills  out  the  last, 
Had  made  him  deal  more  cream  from  nice  reviews 
To  sate  a  dainty  taste,  than  solid  meat 
To  nurture  muscle  for  the  strength  of  spirit. 
With  firmer  faith  in  intellect  that  sketch'd 
Harsh  pictures  of  the  soul,  than  in  the  soul 
Which  God  had  made  an  image  of  Himself, 
He'd  judged  of  men,  as  some  men  judge  of  flowers, 
Not  on  the  stalk,  but  pluck'd  and  press'd  in  books  ; 
And  deem'd  the  Catholic  Church,  not  quite  so  broad 
As  one  long  ride  his  student  days  had  known 
'Twixt  Andover  and  Princeton  ;  and  each  school 
Of  Christian  Charity,  a  place  to  prove 
How  all  beside  one's  self  are  in  the  wrong. 
So  strange  looks  interchanged  the  while  he  read  ; 
But  some,  recalling  more  love  in  late  themes, 
Nor  yet  one  word  less  orthodox,  surmised  :  — 
Perchance,  of  late,  he  had  been  learning  too. 


POEM   FOURTH. 


LEARNING. 


ONCE,  when  I  moved  with  those  who  walk'd  by 
sight, 

Came  ways  where  Faith  did  pause  to  ask  the  right, 
And  words  directing  that  made  doubts  increase, 
So  thwarting  gains  before,  and  present  peace. 
Sad  then,  and  spirit  spent,  my  life  did  veer, 
As  tho'  to  seek  a  clearer  atmosphere, 
From  words  of  others,  and  from  whims  of  mine, 
To  muse  with  Nature  as  with  Thought  Divine. 

ii. 

'Mid  woods  and  streams,  my  mood  detected  soon, 
Dim-lighted  by  the  reverent-minded  Moon, 
A  temple,  grown  to  shape  where  ivy-twined 
Elms  of  wide  trunk  about  far  sides  did  wind 
Of  aisles,  still  sinking  through  a  wild  of  naves  ; 
"VVhere  years  had  bowed  ambitious  Architraves 
For  art  complete,  for  roof  through  skill  of  Showers 
Aye  freshly  fretted  ;  and  .where  fervent  Flowers, 
Fever'd  and  prostrate  Nature's  lord  to  greet, 
Died  for  a  dust  of  fragrance  'neath  the  feet. 


124  LEARNING: 

III. 

Anon,  before  me  gleams  a  brook  whose  shore 
I  follow,  flashing  bright,  —  while  Rays  explore 
Through  tilt  uplifted  by  the  curious  Wind  — 
A  silver  pavement,  which  rare  jewels  bind 
To  the  long  floor  :  and,  motionless,  each  side, 
All  powerless  to  resist  that  lulling  tide, 
In  arms  of  fondling  Boughs  do  white  Mists  sleep 
Like  spirits  chaste,  trustful  in  Winds  that  sweep 
With  bugle-blast  far  off,  and,  drawing  nigh, 
Shall,  on  the  morrow,  waft  them  to  the  sky. 

IV. 

Meanwhile,  the  night  is  not  devoid  of  sound : 
Weird  whispers  prompt  to  thought  of  dreams  around, 
Mysterious  moods  of  water  wind  and  wing 
Insect  and  beast,  with  long-drawn  echoing, 
Low-music,  lingering  lovingly  along 
The  dew-drugg'd,  perfume-drowsy  air,  as  song 
From  bay-bound  ships  through  dull  November  calms  ; 
It  sways  the  listening  soul,  as  pensive  psalms 
That  breathe  mild  melody  from  organ  reeds, 
Distilling  gently  while  the  strain  proceeds, 
Do  fuse  a  sweetness  through  the  atmosphere, 
Our  heaving  breasts  inhale,  as  well  as  hear. 


Calm  as  such  chorals  to  the  sense  devout, 
Came  calmer  nature  to  the  course  of  doubt. 
With  gratitude  for  each  cool  touch  of  Air 
That  soothed  the  fever'd  nerves,  I  rested  there. 


A   POEM.  125 

Amid  my  peace  then,  lo  !  another  came, 
Whose  soul-ful  face  woo'd  from  the  soul  a  claim 
Of  sympathy  complete,  ere  either  spoke  ; 
But  last,  his  voice  reluctant  reverie  woke  : 

VI. 

"  Who  does  not  love,  'mid  shades  and  sounds  like 

these 

Most  charming  from  suggested  mysteries, 
To  throw  aside,  or  strive  to  throw  at  least, 
The  learning  of  our  Times,  and  cull  a  feast 
From  superstition ;  and  half  envy  freaks 
With  which  mad  Fancy  fool'd  those  flighty  Greeks  ? 
I  know  the  Present  has,  in  deeds,  more  right, 
And  more  strength  for  the  deeds  ;  still  is  its  might 
A  boy's  o'ergrown,  —  long  legs  and  arms  for  strife, 
But  heart  and  lungs  are  weak.     Deep  wants  of  life 
We  value  not.     This  home  of  Nature,  grown 
A  common  sight,  our  restless  days  disown  : 
And  we  forget  that  mysteries  too  are  true  ; 
And  we  forget  about  the  distant  blue  ; 
And  we  forget  about  the  silent  pall ; 
And  Faith,  the  only  thing  that  fathoms  all. 


"  Better  than  no  faith,  faith  that  y£olus 
Restrains  the  storms,  so  gentle  Zephyrus 
For  his  fair  wife  may  tune,  'mid  fragrant  bowers, 
These  sweeter  strains ;  to  praise,  in  such  mild  hours, 
That    lutes    and    boots    and    mantles    scowls    and 

showers 
Of  wilder  winds  are  gone  ;  that  no  fierce  rite, 


126  LEARNING: 

No  Furinalia  could  have  claim'd  such  night 

As  parent;  that  no  Thuellai  affright, 

No  wench  with  vulture  claws  and  serpent  form 

Crawls  out  the  stream,  or  blusters  through  a  storm ; 

That  voices  from  Pelorus  lure  none  here ; 

Narcissus  boughs  and  wool  do  not  appear 

All  matted  o'er  hag-faces,  chuckling  near 

The  grim  fixt  mask  of  Fate  ;  that  Naiades 

Flit  here  ;  and,  from  fond  homes,  the  Dryades 

Chime  sweetest  cheer  with  serenading  groups 

Of  truant  minstrel-Hamadryad  troops  ; 

That  Napaeae  wake  chorus  through  the  vale  ; 

That  eager  Echo  speeds  her  flight  to  hail 

The  long  array  of  Oread  choirs,  whence  quiver 

The  mountain-answers  to  the  sea  and  river. 

VIII. 

"  Better  than  no  faith,  faith  that  would  not  doubt 

That  Graces  and  frail  Hours  trip  about 

With  Fauns,  and  jolly  rustic  retinue 

Of  Bacchus ;  or,  just  as  the  carvers  drew 

Round  Pyrrhus'  agate,  on  some  greener  spot, 

Join'd  hand  in  hand,  all  other  cares  forgot  — 

The  scrolls  and   wands   and   masks   and   marks  of 

craft, 

And  merry  o'er  a  fresh  Castalian  draft, 
With  tongue  and  tread,  the  sacred  Nine  aspire 
To  vie  with  zest  of  Cynthius'  nervous  lyre, 
While,  ruling  all,  the  reeds  of  Syrinx  play, 
And  blend  accordant  each  else  diverse  lay." 


A   POEM.  127 

IX. 

He  rose  to  go  ;  and  I,  who,  well  pleased,  heard, 
Rose  too  and  follow'd  him.     Without  a  word 
We  saunter  far,  like  Pilgrims  near  the  shrine 
Of  long  sought  mosque,  who  clip  the  thin-spun  line 
Of  speech,  and  do  not  wish  one  other  gree, 
Than,  in  the  soul,  that  sense  of  Deity. 
At  length,  "Oft  do  I  marvel,"  he  began, 
"  At  man  and  world,  so  wisely  one  of  plan ! 
An  atom  changed,  and  vapory  means  might  swarm 
To  dim  these  heavenly  hues !  yes,  bury  form 
Till  it  seem'd  dead  deformity !  outweigh 
All  sweet  breath  of  the  flowers !  and  muffle  aye 
This  music,  fit  to  charm  anew  who  hears, 
'Mid  holy  air,  more  music  of  more  spheres  ! 

x. 

"  And  yet,  all  life's  our  own  life  !     Shapes,  to  see, 

Loom  not  beyond  the  Sight's  capacity ! 

And  all  life  grows  with  us  !  and  keenest  sense 

May  sate  of  much,  for  much  indifference  ! 

Full  many  a  Will,  whose  effort  can  compress 

In  climax  crowded  for  suggestiveness, 

Like  rays  in  focus,  Truth's  whole  range  to  bless, 

Might  thankfully  surrender  half  the  sway 

Well  polish'd  power  can  wield,  to  be  the  prey 

Of  things  that  thrill'd  his  youth,  so  these  reveal 

That  beauty  he  discerns,  but  cannot  feel ! 


128  LEARNING: 


XL 

"  All  beauty  can  lead  upward  those  inclined 
To  its  intent.     The  wise  and  holy  find 
This  round  horizon  —  not  a  peopling  mist 
Of  whims  embodied  to  the  polytheist  — 
This  round  horizon,  where  such  wonders  mass* 
A  strange  strong  lens,  like  Claude  Lorrain's,  a  glass 
Condensing  great  thoughts  of  one  God,  to  fit 
Their  comprehension.     But  Heaven  must  emit 
New  blaze,  I  fear,  compared  with  which,  sunlight 
Shall  seem  but  gray !  as  lightning  it  must  smite  ! 
Ere  one  faint  spark  shall  cheer  the  sense  of  moles  ! 
Of  blind  who  turn  their  back  on  Heaven  and  goals 
Above,  who  burrow  Stygian  mire  of  earth, 
And  tomb  their  souls  from  all  that  life  is  worth, 
Its  language  to  the  spirit !     Ah,  dim  Skies  ! 
When  shall  some  universal  dawn  arise  ; 
Fill  space,  for  once,  with  claims  so  vast  that  fear 
Shall  overwhelm  each  groveling  purpose  here, 
All  wills  bent  low,  till,  gazing  toward  the  blue, 
They  cry,  with  Paul,  '  What  wilt  Thou  have  me  do  ? ' 

XII. 

"  Weak   mortal   men   may   all    be   priests  !  —  high 

priests 

Of  Nature  !  who  shall  gather  up  from  beasts, 
And  birds,  and  creeping  things,  and  the  dumb  earth, 
And  senseless  skies,  else  but  a  blank  in  dearth 
Of  sentiment,  the  germs  of  praise  in  each ; 
And,  adding  to  their  substance  then  a  speech 
Of  soul,  breathe  from  the  truths  that  all  record 


A   POEM.  129 

A  tale,  a  life  of  glory  to  the  Lord. 
Ah,  such  Shechinah  can  dwell  with  each  heart, 
Make  all  His  shrine  whence  worship  shall  impart 
Praise,  praise  to  every  scene  of  life  and  art !  " 

XIII. 

Here,  stealing  silence  from  his  final  word, 

I  ask'd,  in  reverence  for  the  thoughts  I  heard, 

Who  it  might  be  that  thus  communed  with  me  ?  — 

"  A  man  whose  study  is  humanity," 

He  answer'd.     "  Oft,"  said  I,  "  one  finds  that  name- 

Humanity,  an  ill-disguising  claim 

Of  those  whose  sense  of  human  worthiness 

Loves  man  not  more,  but  only  God  the  less. 

Yours  seems  not  so.     I  ween  your  scrutiny 

For  good  seeks  God  and  not  humanity  ?  " 

XIV. 

"  Both,"  he  replied  ;  "  deem  you  His  coin  a  fraud  ? 
Shall  one  not  seek  His  stamp,  to  learn  of  God  ? 
Shall  one  not  search  His  image  ?  —  for  I  fear  it, 
They  see  but  sense  who  search  not  for  the  Spirit !  " 
"  Alas  !  "  rejoin'd  I,  "  Once  my  soul  did  dare 
To  seek  Him  thus  ;   but  found  doubt  only  there. 
All  the  small  trust  I  have  scarce  bides  a  prayer.. 
Of  man,  thought  grows  mature  but  to  grow  sad  ; 
And  learns  the  more,  the  more  to  learn  of  bad." 
"  Are  you  quite  sure,"  said  he,  "  one  could  not  add 
That  'tis  a  morbid  mood,  bilious  complaint 
Frets,  finding  Earth   no  Heaven,  nor  man   a  saint  ? 
I've  known  a  healthy  Faith  gaze  round  the  ring 
To  trace  with  joy  some  good  in  everything." 
9 


130  LEARNING: 

i 

XV. 

"  Hearken  !  "  continued  he,  "  who  treads  this  hill 
May  reach  that  place  at  which,  with  stronger  will, 
The  Prince  of  Good  withstood  the  Prince  of  111. 
From  yon  high  peaks,  which  touch  Eternity, 
Kingdoms  of  earth  that  were,  and  some  to  be, 
Lie  present  to  the  eye  of  History." 
"  But,"    said    I,    shrinking   back,    "  dwells    111    still 

here  ?  " 
"  Yes,"    answer'd   he,    "  well    those   who   walk   with 

fear  ; 

But  well  repaid.     Time  comes,  in  lives  of  men, 
When  things,  once  tempting,  do  not  tempt  again." 

XVI. 

Thus  speaking  he  advanced ;  myself  meanwhile 
With  hesitation  following.     Far  we  file 
Past  brook  and  crag,  till,  opening  from  a  dell, 
Comes  sudden  precipice,  adown  which  fell 
A  stream  in  silence,  then  thunder'd  farewell 
A  thousand  feet  below !     Huge  mountains  bow 
In  reverence  beneath,  rich- wreathed  of  brow, 
And  robed  of  shoulder  with  those  legacies 
Translated  Summer  drops  from  closing  skies. 
Glancing  to  vales  beyond,  I  sought  to  recall 
Place  where  I  was.     "  Look  !  "  said  my  Guide,  "how 

small 

The  objects  there !  all  men  appear  the  same ! 
Not  one  can  force  his  own  peculiar  claim 
Up  through  so  slight  a  distance  !     Trust  to  see, 
When  nearer  Heaven,  still  more  equality." 


A  POEM.  131 

XVII. 

Then  added  he,  "  What  gain  for  thoughtful  toil ! 
What  harvests  'mid  such  stretch  of  sky  and  soil ! 
What  food  for  wisdom  in  one  nook  alone  ! 
Here,  such  a  feast  to  feed  new  growth  is  strown, 
That,  like  the  slave  who  snuffs  and  waits  the  bone, 
One  culls  all  joy  of  thought  ere  he  collects, 
Skips  the  slow  course,  and  has  its  throng'd  effects! 
Yet  even  now  we  pause  not.     Mark  you  rays 
To  right  of  those  far  peaks  that  merge  in  haze  ? 
Then  nigh,  where  looms  a  loftier  mountain  range, 
As  though  a  storm  were  still'd  by  peace  so  strange, 
Or  on  the  verge  of  strife  reclined  for  slumber  ? 
Where  forms  from  'clouds  above,  and  without  num- 

ber, 

Press  onward  with  such  vague  solemnity, 
And  not,  as  near  here,  tripping  merrily 
To  music  of  these  swaying  pines  ?  —  to-night 
Scenes  hidden  yet  by  that  range  claim  the  sight ; 
We  must  move  on  and  up :  "  —  which  saying,  then 
He  forth  began  to  climb,  'twere  hard  to  pen 
Through  what  long  wastes  of  ledge  and  brake  and 

fen. 

XVIII. 

But,  on  a  high,  broad  cliff  his  quick  pace  ceast, 
And  thence,  the  while  he  points  far  toward  the  east, 
I  can  descry,  upon  a  greener  field 
Swept  of  the  cumbering  trees,  —  but  half  conceal'd 
'Mid  smoke  and  incense  whiter  than  its  own 
Pure  marble  hue,  —  an  altar  ;  nor  alone ; 


132  LEARNING: 

Soon,  standing  nigh,  or  knelt  in  reverent  fear. 
Do  white-robed  multitudes  of  priests  appear. 
Then,  many  people  more  ;  all  search  a  sign, 
Some  movement  amid  victims  on  the  shrine  ; 
And,  ever  and  anon,  borne  o'er  the  blast, 
Do  loftier  fragments  of  deep  praise  float  past, 
Soft  interrupted  strains  which  beat  the  air 
As  tho'  vibrations  from  the  wings  of  prayer. 
Just  as  I  seek  to  learn  the  cause  of  all, 
The  smoke,  grown  dense,  ascends,  a  darkening  pall, 
Unwrapping  through  successive  folds,  and  spreads, 
As  Paripanou's  tent,  above  the  heads 
Of  the  vast  throng,  past  all  foretoken'd  size  ! 
Thence  upward  carried,  each  fresh  current  vies 
To  sprawl  its  dingy  wings  along  the  skies, 
Like  that  grand  hypocritic  drapery  o'er 
The  pyre  of  dead  Pompeii,  rear'd  of  yore 
By  her  fierce  executioner,  the  grim 
Vesuvius  !  swift,  like  that,  does  it  dim 
All  objects,  save  its  own  mass  hovering 
On  high,  here  shading  and  there  covering 
The  moon  and  struggling  stars  !  ere  long  it  takes 
New  shapes  !     Another  blast  of  tempest  shakes 
Its  length  !  when  sally  forth  foreboding  forms, 
Like  thunder-clouds  far  grasping  out  in  storms ! 
And  then,  as  tho'  a  frame  of  life,  they  lower 
Heaven- wide  !  the  limbs  of  some  stupendous  Power 
Resting  on  air!    while  Scrutiny  would  wait, 
He  slowly  moves  !  his  mighty  breasts  inflate  ! 
His  giant  fingers  touch  the  yielding  space ! 
"  Watch  !  "  cries   my  Guide,  "  watch   well,  and   you 
shall  trace 


A   POEM.  133 

Creations  new !  bright  surges,  dark  mirtlock, 

And  patals,  where  foul  bands  of  Nardman  flock, 

Flow  forth  to  fill  the  heavens  !     Brahma  !  again 

I  see  thee  ride  above  the  Indian  main, 

Borne  on  thy  lotus-car,  while  Truth  began 

To  grid  the  dreams  of  youth  and  guide  the  man ! 

XIX. 

"  Ah  thought  was  crystallized  to  make  a  world ! 

Be  He  the  southern  Kneph,  or  He  who   hurl'd, 

'Mid  frozen  climes,  the  heat  from  Muspellheim 

Intd  Ginnunga-gap,  or  He  with  prime 

Efficient  will  discern'd  'mid  twilight  dim 

Of  Grecian  lore,  and  many  a  prayerful  hymn, 

All  nations  feel  a  God,  e'en  through  thick  mist 

Of  Earth-fumed  theory  cannot  resist 

Suggested  thoughts  of  One  who  doth  sustain 

And  did  create  the  universe.     In  vain 

Immortals  strive  for  rest,  who  have  no  vows 

For  that  First  Source,  before  whom  Conscience  bows 

Conscious  of  wise  and  moral  Governor. 

Let  Hindoo  be  our  soul's  interpreter 

With  proofs  of  God  that  Hell  may  be  more  sad. 

With  Siva  to  develop  from  the  bad 

And  Vichnu  savior  join'd  with  Brahma,  One, 

A  Parabrahma,  union  such  as  none 

Can  comprehend,  as  binds  three  Persian  Powers, 

As  shifts  for  aye  the  dark  Egyptian  hours, 

With  three  dejotas  merged  in  Trimurti, 

Where  learn'd  the  soul  this  thought  of  Trinity  ? 

Was  He,  whose  name  His   chosen  dared  not  trace, 

One  with  Jehovah  of  another  race 


134  LEARNING: 

Which  named  Him  not,  who  promised  to  redeem 
A  world  from  wretchedness,  and  wake  a  dream     ' 
Of  peace  with  Heaven's  full  blessedness  ?     Ah  !  who 
With  eyes  and  ears  shall  find  naught  that  is  true  ? 
Amid  the  worst,  some  whiff  of  right  has  given 
Fresh    breath     to     Faith    that    totters    on     toward 
Heaven." 

xx. 

I  look'd.     The  shape  had  vanish'd.     Left  behind 
Is  naught  but  smoke  which  now  does  gently  wind 
About  the  stars.     Then,  when  these  gleam  am  am 
From  the  clear'd  sky,  he  shows  me,  o'er  the  plain 
Those  obelisks,  "  the  son  of  Mitres  rears 
To  meet  and  match  the  rays  of  worshipt  spheres. 
Chaldee !  "  he  sigh'd,  "  If  stars  be  numberless 
To  man,  has  therefore  God  such  feebleness? 
Ye  clove  the  sense  of  His  Infinity, 
To  name  each  whit  a  god,  in  mockery! 
Minerva  sprang  from  Jove,  but  Jove  survived. 
Thy  Vulcans  struck  for  idols,  Truth  still  thrived: 
And  shall  thrive,  till  no  priests,  like  thine,  shall  revel, 
Belus !  first  incarnation  of  the  devil  ! " 

XXI. 

While  speaking,  he  had  turn'd,  and  left  that  scene 
For  region  rough  with  mounts.     Past  Mosses  lean 
And  mourning  Pines,  from  many  an  aspiring  home 
Fleet  Torrents  dash,  excited  but  to  foam. 
More  modest,  in  more  quiet  walks  beneath, 
Bright  genial  Springs  succeed,  'mid  grateful  Heath, 
Reflecting  light  from  open  skies  above. 


A   POEM-.  135 

Nigh  one,  sweet  to  intoxicate  to  love, 

"  Behold   you,"  said   my    Guide,    "  that   glimmering 

nave 

Form'd  from  the  cragged  arches  of  this  cave  ? 
'Tis  carved  with  symbols  the  great  magus  gave. 
Within,  seven  blazing  dadgahs  light  his  plan 
To  overthrow  the  power  of  Ahriman. 
Well  for   his   fame,  that  the  wise   seer  found   signs 
So  full  of  hope  ;  could  picture  in  such  lines 
That  Zend  Avesta  lured  the  peoples'  heart ; 
Show  Mithras,  not  for  aye,  with  .threaten'd  art, 
In -twilight  time,  preserving  peace  between 
The  white-mail'd  Ormuzd  and  his  foe  obscene 
Dark  Ahriman,  but  crown'd  where  every  spirit, 
Named  sinless  from  Tschinevad.  should  inherit 
Unclouded  realms  of  endless  day,  once  more 
Good  only  reigning  supreme  as  of  yore. 

XXII. 

' '  But  Zoroaster  was  not  last,  nor  first 
To  learn  of  life  by  which  the  world  is  curst. 
Nay  !  name  him  Typhon,  Loki,  Moisasure, 
Who  does  not  ask,  how  long  shall  111  endure  ? 
Well  welded  locks  and  legal  barriers 
By  which  the  best  philanthropist  avers 
A  worst  distrust ;  the  long  lewd  -list  of  crimes 
In  lawyers'  lore  ;  the  armies  of  all  times, 
With  men  so  pleased  to  man  them  ;  Anarchy 
That  sweeps  with  waves  of  blood  for  misery 
Where  bayonets  rear  no  breakers  ;  Toil  that  schemes 
For  self,  and  stores  another's  ;  Rest  that  dreams 
Of  vice  and  wakes  in  vileness ;  Conscience,  Care, 
* 


136  LEARNING. 

Disease,  and  Death  ;  —  alike  one  record  bear 
To  handling  of  an  ill  power  gone  before, 
With  tampering  clear  to  all,  but. clear  the  more 
To  those  who  are  most  keen  to  spy  the  right ; 
Where  blear  eyes  blink,  but  health  detects  the  blight." 

XXIII. 

The  cave,   pass'd  by,   shoots  through  thick-wooded 

path, 

Like  furnace  fires  at  gloaming,  many  a  shaft 
Of  light  which  routs  the  perils  of  the  way 
And  haunts  uncertain  Night  with  ghosts  of  Day. 
But  woods  and  rays,  at  length,  give  place  to  plain 
From  which  I  gaze  up  toward  the  mounts  again.. 
There  do  I  note,  upon  a  summit  tall, 
Some  stealthy  Mists.     Anon,  they  seem  to  crawl 
Along  the  hights,  and  lengthen  out,  and  show 
They  are  but  first  of  others,  gathering  so. 
These  soon  close  up  behind  them,  with  low  hum, 
Repeated  loud,  ere  long,  by  more  that  come. 
Now  one  can  hear  that  anxious  Leaves,  afar 
Are  all  astir  ;  and  then,  'mid  blast  and  jar, 
See  Shades,  just  slumbering,  wake  on  every  side, 
And  round  about  in  strange  confusion  stride. 
And  with  good  cause  !  above  their  swift  dismay, 
Huge  Tempests  crowd  each  peak ;  with  an  array 
As  terrible,  as  fallen  fiends  who  went 
From  black  despair  to  storm  the  battlement 
Of  Heaven  !     And  fiercely,  foully  do  they  vie 
To  break  the  lines  of  Light,  'twixt  earth  and  sky ! 
With  sad  success !     They  carry  each  redoubt ! 
And,  bounding  down  with  thunder-tread  and  shout, 


A   POEM.  137 

Their  weapons  flash  and  clash  along  the  rocks, 
Where  howls  the  Waste  beneath  their  deathly  shocks ! 

XXIV. 

Glancing  aside  for  refuge  from  the  storm, 

Lo  !  I  saw  men,  in  diverse  dress  and  form, 

Kneeling  all  round  me  ;  and,  with  less  of  pride, 

I  had  kneel'd  too,  had  not,  just  then,  my  Guide 

Said,  while  he  led  me  toward  a  shelter  near : 

"  Yes  !  well  may  pagan  kneel  to  God !  well  fear, 

When  storms  like  this  descend  from  upper  air, 

That  He,  in  anger,  sits  on  summits  there  ! 

No  wonder  Greek  should  deem,  in  place  like  this 

The  home  of  Superhadean  deities ! 

Here,  for  his  soul  conjure  those  fancied  peers, 

The  scepter'd  shadows  of  foreboding  fears  ! 

That  Spartan  dared  not  brave  Olympus'  shocks  ! 

Nor  shepherd  near  Amanus  with  his  flocks  ! 

That  Persian  bow'd  to  Bordj,  or  grand  Meru 

Subdued  the  haughty  Kooleenu  ! 

Not  strange  that  priests  should  claim  just  laws  were 

given 

On  peaks,  so  far  from  Earth,  so  near  to  Heaven  ! 
Cite,  too,  palladia,  by  heathen  shown, 
And  carved  with  duties,  changeless   as  their  stone, 
The  Thunder's  Brontia,  Caetylia, 
Dread  Dysares  of  hush'd  Arabia, 
Heliogabalus,  Teutonic  rainbow  urns, 
The  image  which  bereaved  Pessinus  yearns, 
Nahadeo,  and  countless  such  believed 
Warnings,  heaven-sent,  e'er  since  The  Ten  received  ! 
But,  think  you,  'mid  the  storms,  which  is  the  foe  — 


138  LEARNING: 

Self?  or  the  lightning  that  lights  up  its  woe? 
If  sin  feel  death  deserved,  no  less  a  due, 
If  He,  who  claims  a  death,  the  life  own  too, 
Spoke  Love  or  Hate  from  Sinai's  dreaded  throne 
To  give  another  life,  and  guard  one's  own  ?  — 
How  dear  the  soul  for  which  men  would  atone, 
What  witnesses  are  sacrifices  sad, 
From  Moloch  down  to  Tauroboliad  !  " 

XXV. 

"You  yield,"  I  interposed,  "much  reverence 

To  heathen  worship  ?  "     "  Yes,  there  is  a  sense 

In  which  all  faith,"  said  he,  "  springs  from  the  true. 

Denying  that,  one's  choice  lies  'twixt  the  two  — 

An  ignorance  to  palliate  bigotry, 

Or  else  no  Christian  ground  for  charity. 

And  granting  that,  I  deem,  who  trusts  the  soul, 

Tho'  not  its  fruit  sin  grafted,  trusts  the  whole, 

Trusts  God  and  Revelation,  sure  to  find 

But  one  religion  suited  for  the  mind. 

Ah,  faith  there  is,  whence  Doubting  seems  to  be 

The  haunted  fool  of  flimsiest  Misery  !  — 

Of  film,  whose  folds  deceptive  will  transpire, 

Whift  off  by  breathing  of  one  live  Desire !  — 

Imagination's  freak,  appearing  wise, 

Not  when  the  spirit  searches  deep  to  prize 

The  genuine  make  of  God,  but  when  its  reach 

Ends  with  this  human-manufactured  speech. 

Doubt  comes  to  him  who  courts  a  wordish  war, 

And  dreams  that  skill  in  such  is  conqueror  ; 

To  Surface-Learning,  and  to  fickle  Trust, 

Dazzled  by  Creeds  that  Sight  cannot  adjust. 


A   POEM.  139 

Look  for  the  soul !  tear  sensuous  myths !    E'en  guise, 

Deserving  well  all  curse  of  prophecies, 

May  show  beneath   some  Truth,  not   wholly  mute, 

To  teach  salvation  through  a  substitute ! 

Faith !   hope !  love !    longing !    deeds  by  which  men 

rise 
From  Eden's  loss  to  gain  of  Paradise  ! " 

XXVI. 

We  moved  to  leave  the  mounts,  but  soon  enslaves 
Our   Path    a   blustering    Flood.       Wide   sweep   the 

waves  ! 

They  scarce  more  widely  laved  lone  Ararat, 
When  erst  did  cease  that  voyage  long  wonder'd  at, 
While  varied  tongues  and  titles  spake  of  one 
Noas,  Seisithrus,  or  Deucalion, 
Father  of  men,  and  farmer  of  the  vine, 
With  ship  and  dove  their  universal  sign 
To  keep  that  memory  of  deeds  divine ! 
Long   stand   we   by   the   waves,    and   watch   their 

strife. 

Then  last,  he  names,  as  Typhon  and  his  wife, 
Dark  forms  whose  cautious  footsteps  grow  along 
The  mire  upon  the  shore.     Soon,  muscles  strong 
By  hate,  they  shove  far  through  the  tide  a  chest 
In  which  the  limbs  of  meek  Osiris  rest, 
The  savior  of  a  world  they  would  destroy  ; 
Then  sneak  away  more  Virtue  to  decoy. 
Well    timed    their    haste.      All    111    is    track'd    by 

Good. 

Not  far,  wise  Hermes  moves  to  trace  the  flood, 
And  name   its  destined  hight.     He  lifts  his  brows; 


140  LEARNING: 

But  while  he  notes  their  deed,  through  noiseless 

boughs 

A  mellow  Light  advances  toward  the  stream, 
'Mid   which,    like    stars    through   mists,    shine   eyes 

whence  gleam 

Powers  from  a  soul  behind  some  surface-tears 
Unmoved  as  Heaven  beyond  Earth's  showery  fears. 
Despite  much  wrath,  despite  dishevelPd  tress, 
Thrice  beautiful  is  Isis  in  distress ! 
She  hunts  for  her  lost  spouse  ;  and  with  her  is 
The  faithful  but  abortive  Anubis. 
Intent  upon  their  aim,  they  seek  great  Thoth. 
Watch,    now,    how   gods   can   love   whom    they   be 
troth  ! 

How  heart  can  .vivify  that  thing,  the  face ! 
Still  eyes  flash  force !  substantial  muscles  trace 
The  spirit's  ebb  and  flow  !  emotion  pulse 
Through  moveless  cheeks !  how  very  woe  exults  ! 
She  waves  her  hand  toward  Heaven !     The  gloom 

withdraws ! 

Light  bursts  the  sky!  and  sudden  warmness  thaws 
Thick  air  that  pours  aclown  on  tree  and  sheaf, 
And  rolls  in  liquid  notes  from  leaf  to  leaf; 
While,  far  off  from  the  swift  stream's  thwarted  zest, 
Up  looms,  in  free  relief,  the  missing  chest ! 

XXVII. 

"  Those  sacred  lips  renew  the  prophecies," 
Explain'd    the    Guide    who   mark'd    my   wondering 

eyes, 

"  Of  time  when  Horus  shall  avenge  the  death 
Of  his  lost  sire  who,  newly  dower'd  of  breath, 


A  POEM.  141 

Shall  rise  in  resurrection,  rescuing  earth 
Invoked  to  share  his  name  and  his  new  birth. 
Oft  told  that  prophecy  of  one,  a  man 
More  pure  than  Noah,  saving  more  of  clan 
From  deadlier  floods  that  Earth  dares  not  to  scan  ; 
A  fabled  hero,  from  deep  shades  to  spring  : 
A  God  incarnate,  prophet,  priest,  or  king ; 
The  dream  of  Art  that  carved  in  human  scope, 
From  spotless  stone  the  image  of  its  hope  ; 
What  land  or  age  ne'er  heard  of  One  to  free 
From  woes  of  Time  and  of  Eternity? 
Not  all  a  man  !     Man  can  but   pay  self's  due  ! 
Yet,  man  in  truth,  with  deeds  for  manhood,  too !  " 

XXVIII. 

"  If  Heathen  hope  sought  so   much  that   was  true, 
Tell  me,"  I  ask'd,  "  what  profit,  then,  the  Jew  ?  " 
"Much,  every  way,"  he  said,  "  chief,  oversight 
Of  oracles,  amid  surrounding  night, 
Sure  types  of  Truth    Reveal'd,  and    coming  Light. 
Jews  were*  the  chosen  few ;  but,  need  Control 
To  bless  the  chosen,  slight  the  general  whole  ? 
Just  are  the  Powers  which   human  Fortunes  wield, 
Whose  accusations  then,  perchance,  are  seal'd 
Against  both  Consciousness  and  Right  ReVeal'd. 
Perchance,  those    Deeds,  which   lives    depraved  re 
new 

Through  human  means,  selected  first  the  Jew 
For  a  peculiar,  not  a  single  view 
Of  truth,  truth  given  for  the  general  cause, 
But  guarded  by  one  nation's  Life  and  Laws. 
And  where  does  candid  History  that  traces 


142  LEARNING: 

Amid  all  kinds  of  castes,  and  clans,  and  races, 

Find  to  conserve,  a  stabler  element ! 

Of  all  the  men  against  mutation  bent, 

Spite   pasha,    pope,  king,   slaughter,  hatred,  shame, 

But  one,  the  Jew,  bides  evermore  the  same. 

XXIX. 

"  Alas  !  a  sect,  blest  by  Omnipotence, 

By  revelation  wise,  where  ignorance, 

Like  Esau,  bargained,  through   a  hungry  mind, 

Their  birthright,  to  be  foremost  of  mankind, 

Exclusive  then,  as  now,  possess'd  to  call,  — 

As  alway  pagan  priests  taught  men  to  call,  — 

The  nation's  Guardian,  not  the  Lord  of  all, 

Only  of  Jew,  forgetting  prophecy 

Which  join'd  the  Gentile  name  to  each  decree. 

They    turn'd   from    Christ   and   Him   whose   power 

above 

Has  not  declared  partiality  of  Love, 
Or  hope  excluded  from  a  part  of  earth. 
The  serpent  crush'd  by  heel  of  human  birth, 
A  Spirit  trampling  Satan,  — with  this  theme 
The  whole  long  records  of  the  prophets  teem. 
Where  is  new  truth  ?     Where  not  development 
Of  sign*  and  sacrifice  to  all  men  sent, 
Through    their  first   parents  ?     Ah   without  excuse ! 
And  criminal  for  adding  each  abuse, 
Stands  man  himself!     Nor  human  teaching  then 
Nor  now,  could  ever  hide  from  view  I  ken  — 
Despite  the  gods  before  Him  which  men  saw 
On  pictur'd  veils  vain  Fancy  hies  to  draw  — 
That  which  the  Spirit  sways,  that  higher  law 


A   POEM.  143 

Created  with  *the  heart.     If  circumcised 
By  faith  in  Him  to  whom  they  sacrificed 
Were  saved,  uncircumcised,  tho'  dim  their  pleas, 
With  faith  in  Him  might  equal  some  of  these ! 

XXX. 

"  Think  you  to  blame  the  law  of  Hebrew  priest 
That  none,  save  Jonah,  was  evangelist  ? 
Think  you  to  prove  all  Words  inspired  confuse 
Which  praise  God-fearing  men  who  were  not  Jews  ? 
Paul,  truthful  ever,  need  not  hint  alone 
That    Greece    could    worship    God,    tho'    God    un 
known  ? 

Nor  Christ  need  stoop  to  use  a  logic  shrewd 
To  mitigate  Samaritanic  feucl, 
Fortelling  time  when,  nay,  not  here,  nor  there 
The  Father  should  be  served,  but  everywhere  ? 
Oh  !    could  not    He,  with   praises    sung   in  Heaven 
By  every  nation,  people,  kindred  given, 
Still  keep  ideals  for  all  reverent  hearts 
More  chaste    than  forms  which  mock'd  His  nobler 

parts  ? 

Woe  World,  if  not !  all  man-pruned  history 
Grows,  for  slow  shapings  to  idolatry  ! 
It  is  not  he  of  heathen  name,  alone, 
Who  can  bow  down  to  gold    and  wood  and  stone  ! 
The  ancient  priest,  to  lax  tradition  given, 
For  power  perverted  simple  rites  of  Heaven, 
And  told  of  hero,  demigod  and  god : 
To-day,  with  Bible,  hidden  while  they  laud, 
Which  holds  the  germs,  I  ween,  of  all  things  true, 
Lo !  not  One,  mediate  'twixt  God  and  man, 


144  LEARNING: 

But  saint,  host,  goddess,  this  Book  rtever  knew  ! 
Perchance  just  Charity  would  kindlier  scan 
A  Socrates,  Athenian  gods  between, 
Who  praised  a  Spirit,  for  his  soul  supreme." 

XXXI. 

Pondering   these   thoughts,    all    dead    to   sight   and 

sound, 

I  walk'd  abstracted,  till  I  mark'd  around 
Strange,  quivering  shadows  covering  the  ground. 
Yes,  the  whole  air  itself  seemed  thick  with  shade  ! 
I  started  then  !    I  peer'd  through  plain  and  glade ! 
On  neither  side  was  aught  that  could  be  seen  ; 
No  mount,  nor  wood  to  intercept  the  sheen ! 
At  last,  far,  far  above,  I  spied  a  light, 
Higher  than  clouds  could  be,  the  wildest  sight 
To  which  I  e'er  was  witness !     It  came  not 
From  moon  or  sun  ;  one  could  not  judge  from  what ! 
As  lightning  were  if  constant,  so  it  glared  ! 
Through  each  direction  tore  !  and  crost !  and  flared  ! 

XXXIT. 

Long  space  the  strange  scene  lasted,  till  amain 
The    moon   shone  from    its   edge.     Far  thence,  the 

plain 

Upheaved  its  side  to  form  a  giant  hill ; 
And  from  the  top  the  great  ash  Yggdrasill, 
Beneath  one  limb  of  which  I  now  discover 
That  shaded  path  had  pass'd,  is  shown  to  hover 
O'er  all  the  north,  here  resting  in  the  gloom 
That  broods  in  west,  there  animate  with  bloom, 
First  blush  of  Youthful  Morn,  till  thin  clouds  hide 


A   POEM.  145 

Dim  limbs,  like  mountain  woods,  as  high  as  wide ! 

A  sprout  'side  this,  Aswatha  of  Hindoo, 

Gogard  of  Persia,  Zampuh  too 

Of  Thibet,  Kounboun  with  those  mystic  signs 

That  made  but  little  wise  its  wise  divines  ! 

Or  tree  —  whence  seeds  of  these  were  said  to  be  — 

Which  tempted  Eden  to  disloyalty. 

XXXIII. 

We  sought  its  roots  :    one  in  the  west,  where  band 
The  fiends  of  darkness  in  their  fond  Mistland  \ 
And  there  the  serpent  lies,  like  lengthen'd  night, 
And  gnaws  the  bleeding  bark  in  wallowing  spite  : 
And  one,  far  in  the  north  where  Frost-kings  dwell, 
And,  filPd  for  wit  and  wisdom,  Mimir's  well,  — 
'Mid  its  clear  depths  the  mirror'd  pole-star  fell : 
And  one,  along  to  east,  hard  by  the  morn 
And  Urdar-fountain,  where  the  patient  Norn 
Perceives  the  present,  future,  and  the  past, 
Nor  slights  the  small,  nor  shudders  at  the  vast. 
Thence,  o'er  a  dread,  tempestuous  stretch  of  dark, 
The  rainbow-bifrost  bends,  where  one  can  mark 
Heimdall  the  warden  his  close  vigils  keep. 
Ah !  marvelous  his  ear,  e'en  in  his  sleep, 
As  light  as  birds,  he  hears  the  grasses  grow, 
And  wool  on  sheep,  ten  thousand  miles  below  ! 
Beyond,  in  grandeur,  loom  high  Asgard  homes 
Of  gods  !  and  there,  above  those  twelve  bright  thrones, 
Gladheim  is  recognized,  with  golden  domes  ! 
Whence  far  along  Idavollr's  placid  fields, 
Vingolf,  secure  by  hush'd  retirement,  yields 
For  Frigga  and  her  kind  a  wilderness 


146  LEARNING: 

Of  lawns,  and  lanes,  and  arbors  for  recess  ! 
Romantic  nights  of  groves  !  and  days  of  flowers ! 
And  lakes,  and  streams,  and  fairy  fountain  showers  • 
A  place,  where  luxury  could  wish  no  bliss ! 
Desire  itself  be  drugg'd  to  drowsiness ! 

xxxiv. 

But  while  I  gaze  upon  a  scene  thus  mild, 
Storms    gather    in    the    heavens,    whence    clangors 

wild 

Provoke  responses  fierce  !     As  Lightning  flies, 
Heimdall  on  Gulltopp  to  Valhalla  hies, 
To  find  great  Odin,  and  across  the  plain 
More  gods  pursue,  with  growing  signs  of  pain  I 
Here  Tyr  uplifts,  like  some  vast  mountain  side, 
His   ponderous   shield    that    shakes   with    wounded 

pride  ! 

There  Ullur  draws  a  bow  to  test  his  art, 
And  meteors  through  remotest  heavens  dart ! 
Now  Braji  leaves  Iduna  and  wise  life, 
To  plan  with  Forseti  a  course  for  strife  ; 
And  Frey  in  haste,  through  breathless  patience  wan, 
Beats  his  big  boar  that  saunters  slowly  on. 
Then  Freyja  with  complaining  team  of  gray, 
And  Vidar,  Njord  and  Vali  join  the  fray ; 
While  through  the  north,  like  an  Aurora,  gleam 
The  spears  of  Skadi's  troops  that  nearer  stream ! 
Far  up,  in  Hliclskjalf,  towering  o'er  the  crowds, 
Like  morning  Sun  enthroned  above  the  clouds, 
Bright  Odin  stands  :    and,  prompt  to  his-  command, 
Vibrations  roll  the  sea,  and  rend  the  land ! 
Whence    comes   great    Thor  whose    chariot    sweeps 

the  heaven 


A   POEM.  147 

On  flaming  wheels  of  fire  to  fury  driven ! 

Eclipsing  all  the  rival  hosts  of  light, 

As  hurricanes  trail  past  the  stars  of  night ! 

XXXV. 

Then,  from  these  ranks  conceal'd,  I  glance  below, 
To  find  the  threatening  cause ;  wild  waste  of  woe  ! 
The  seas,  lash'd  by  the  serpent,  overflow 
All  shores !     The  giant  ash,  struck  by  the  storm, 
Rent  and  uprooted,  reels,  a  shatter'd  form, 
And  then  igniting,  like  a  comet  grand, 
Burning,  with  its  hot  wake,  full  half  the  sky, 
Plunges  far  out  the  limits  of  the  land, 
Where  soon,  in  distant  dark,  the  echoes  die. 
Fire-genii  from  the  deep  flame  forth  with  arms 
That  tear  the  bifrost  down !     While  this  alarms, 
Huge  giants,  'mid  upheaving  mounds  and  cliffs, 
Press  toward  the  gods  !     Soon,  where  the  foul  fume 

lifts, 

Advance  Thor's  blazing  lines  !     Of  no  avail 
Is  now,  alas  !  their  strength !     For  once,  they  fail  ! 
For  once,  can  force  more  dread  than  their's  assault ! 
And,  almost  ere  they  charge,  the  columns  halt ! 
Then  back,  through  many  a  lengthening  league  they 

roll ! 

Then,  wheeling,  bend  their  rivals  like  a  scroll ! 
Borne  back  again,  for  one  last  charge  they  form, 
As  terrible  as  every  earthly  storm 
Concentrated  in  one  !     On  !  on  !  they  bound  ! 
They  blend  !  oh  Soul !  my  being  breaks  with  sound  ! 
Nor  heaven,  nor  hell  could  stand  so  .fierce  a  shock ! 
But  all  things  !  —  god  or  giant !  sky  or  rock  ! 


I48  LEARNING: 

Or  star,  or  soil !  —  'mid  bursting  fires  are  hurl'd 
Like  lava  through  the  air !  then  all  the  world 
Is  smoke,  so  dense  I  feel  it  when  I  press  1 
Then  all  is  still !  and  all  is  nothingness  ! 

XXXVI. 

How  long  this  gloom  had  place,  I  cannot  tell. 
Bewilder'd  by  the  scene  and  shock,  I  fell 
In  shuddering  swoon.     Waking,  my  fears  dispel. 
My  Guide  is  by  me ;  and,  tho'  hid  from  sight, 
I  yet  can  hear  his  voice  which  calms  me  quite : 
"  Watch  now,"  says  he,  "  the  end  of  pagan  fears, 
His  good  and  evil  part  for  endless  years." 

XXXVII. 

Ere  long,  a  slight  commotion  lures  the  view. 
Amid    the    shades,    gleams    here    and    there    flash 

through 

Congealing  orbs  of  gloom,  whereat  I  gaze 
With  roused  attention,  and  do  note  that  rays 
Of  light  commingle  also  ;  and  both  flow 
Apart ;  the  light  above  ;  the  dark  below  ; 
As  tho'  some  chemic  power  precipitates 
All  by  inherent  force  to  destined  fates. 
And  there,  I  wis  not  how,  one  seem'd  to  heed 
With  every  moving  gleam,  or  shade,  some  deed  ; 
And,  clinging  to  each  deed,  to  read  a  name ! 
Soon,  saw  I  forms,  sometimes  with  boastful  frame, 
That    look'd,    then    shrunk    below,    and    sometimes 

souls 
That  stood,  amazed  to  find  ascending  scrolls, 


A   POEM.  149 

And  none  descending ;  till,  with  mien  of  praise, 
They  turn'd,  with  trembling  feet,  toward  higher  ways. 

XXXVIII. 

At  last  the  long  procession  had  gone  by, 

And,  far  beyond  me,  just  against  the  sky, 

I  could  discover  regions,  rear'd  for  Right, 

Beyond  all  beauty  beautiful  !  that  sight 

No  man  could  see,  and  deem  one  other  bright ! 

All  glare  of  earth,  in  one  lens,  were  a  blot 

Beside  those  shining  pinnacles !  nay !  not 

In  all  the  tales,  by  seer  or  sibyl  given, 

One  thing  suggested  like  that  scene  in  Heaven. 

And  then,  how  could  I,  from  a  view  so  dear, 

Look  down  ?     I  could  not     Such  a  Heaven  near, 

Hades  or  Helheim  could  but  prompt  to  fear. 

And  "  one,"  thought  I,    "  grows  much  less  pure   in 

Time, 
From  fear  of  ill  than  hope  of  the  sublime." 

XXXIX. 

But  yet,  I  doubted,  till,  half  turn'd  toward  place 
Where  souls,  descending,  went,  lo !  I  did  face 
A  mighty  Light  that  brighten'd  earth  and  sky, 
So  bright,  I  thought,  because  this  Light  was  nigh, 
All  things  that  I  had  pass'd  appear'd  so  clear 
In  the  dim  night ;  and,  gazing  forward  here, 
It  seem'd  to  light  the  way  far  as  that  heaven. 
'Twas  on  a  little  knoll,  the  splendor  given 
From  rays  that  fell  and  glanced,  stronger  before, 
Weaker  behind,  from  off  a  cross !     "  But  more," 
My  Guide  said,  "  waits  us,  while  we  have  this  Light 
'Tis  our  work  to  advance  from  sight  to  sight." 


1 50  LEARNING  : 

XL. 

Soon  valleys  deep  and  dark  did  hide  the  scene, 
Where    all   was   gloom,  save   here    and   there   some 

sheen 

From  warring  weapons.    Then  came  place  of  dread : 
'Mid  reeking  shades,  imnumber'd  heroes  dead ! 
Myriads  of  captives,  into  bondage  led ! 
And  gladiatorial  thousands,  kill'd  to  grace 
The  civilization  of  its  populace  ! 
Anon,  however,  when  the  haze  unrolls, 
Far  more  distinct,  loom  individuals. 
"  Look  !  "  says  my  Guide  :  "  Men  find  their  king  a 

man  ! 

And  he  finds  other  claims  than  self  s  to  scan  ! 
Those  restless  fetters  of  the  slave  flash  fire  ! 
And  they  are  loosed  that  all  wish  may  aspire  ! 
Lo  !  churches,  homes,  and  missions  far  extend  ! 
And  seas,  where  crowding  ships  of  commerce  wend, 
Sails  set  to  work  with  winds  from  heaven  above, 
And  mingle  language,  custom,  art  and  love  ! 
But  watch  men  here:"  which  done,  I  "understood 
How  few  remark'd  the  universal  good, 
In  search  of  things  minute,  and  hard  to  glean, 
Whence  scowls  of  discontent  scrimpt  many  a  mien 
That  peer'd  through  lens,  with  all  the  light  he  had 
In  hope,  I  learn'd,  to  magnify  the  bad  ! 

XLI. 

Among  the  throng  was  one  who  came  to  us. 
•'  These    Times,"    said   he,    "  these    Times    degener- 
ous 


A   POEM.  151 

Bid  one  yield  up  to  new  Desires  that  lurch 

The  blood-stain'd    standards  of  One  Holy  Church. 

The  Church   is  home  of  all  that  Love  has    taught, 

Or  deed  has  gain'd,  or  Laws  humane  have  sought, 

'Mid  troubled  floods,  the  only  ark  of  heaven : 

Blest  are  those  halls  where  parent  vows  are  given, 

Where  young  susceptive  lips  are  train'd  to  pray, 

Where  life  grows  constant  to  the  holy  way, 

Blest  are  those  simple  rites,  the  quiet  throng, 

The  thrilling  organ,  and  the  mutual  song, 

The  prayers  and  pleadings,  thoughts,  decisions  wise, 

The  still  walk  home,  the  present  Paradise ! 

Cursed  the  soul  whose  mad  conceit  would  sate, 

Lessening  the  sovereignty  of  its  estate. 

For  twenty  centuries  this  power  has  kept 

The  older  creeds  for  faith  that  fear'd  and  wept, 

And  outlived  Heathendom  and  Heresy  "  — 

"  Yes,"  said  my  Guide,  "  and  that  Truth  might  be 

free, 

Made  free  its  forms !     Cursed  is  age  or  youth 
That  clings  to  such,  when  such  can  fetter  Truth!" 

XLII. 

"  Alas  !  "  the  first  rejoin'd,  "  with  truth  your  search 
You  find  no  good,  no  profit  in  the  Church  ? " 
"  Much  every  way !  "  was  answer'd,  "  chiefly,  aye, 
Just  as  the  Jew  was  once,  the  Church  to-day, 
Great  in   the  Truth   reveal'd  !     What  plea  the   Jew 
To  slight  those  forms  ordain'd  by  prophets  true 
One  hour  before  the  greater  Lamb  reveal'd 
The  law  of  sacrifice  in  type  repeal'd? 
What  plea  the  Church  to  slight  one  Bible-fact 


I52  LEARNING: 

That  furthers  faith  in  heart  or  good  in  act  ? 
Or  how,  while  mental  errors  can  pollute 
A  soul's  ideals  of  the  Absolute, 
Can  young  or  old  slight    conference,  and  not  stray 
Far  from  the  right  ?     Well  that  for  all  a  sway,  — 
Though   temple,  altar,  priesthood  pass'd  away,  — 
The  people's  synagogue  remain'd,  to  be 
The  same  power  as  of  yore,  with  ministry 
Preserving  'mid  the  best  life  visible 
The  truth  once  given,  which  no  man  can  annul, 
Or  change,  or  mystify!  that  this  remain 
Till  some  new  dispensation  shall  make  plain 
To  soul  of  every  individual 
Truth  partial  now,  and  perfect  but  in  all. 
Ah !  in  old  time,  —  and,  if  no  single  man 
Have  love  or  truth  complete,  wisely,  I  scan,  - 
Faith  sought  its   Sovereign's  voice  through  Charity 
That  asks  report  from  each !  and  so,  may  be, 
In  matter  of  mere  form,  Faith  should  again, 
Like  James,  Paul,  Peter,  and  those  brethren, 
Waive  word  and  whim  to  further  deed  and  choice.  — 
They    serve    the    Church,    who    serve    the    Spirit's 
voice." 

XLIII. 

"  Ah  ! "  sigh'd  the  stranger,  then,  right  mournfully, 
"  So  many  claim  it,  where  can  this  voice  be  ?  " 
"  Nations,  there    are,"  my   Guide  said,  "  one    alone 
Through  kindred    traits,  and  one  upon  the   throne, 
By  generous  laws,  most  strong  in  central  life, 
Spite  of  provincial  tax,  and  local  strife.  - 
You  deem  the  Church  ^divided  ?     WTho  are  you, 


A   POEM.  153 

So  sure  how  Christ  can  best  preserve  in  view 

Himself  the  Sovereign  still  of  all  things  true  ? 

Voice  is,  whence  Faith  may  serve  a  Godless  shrine, 

And  worship  human  things,  and  not  divine ; 

Not  Truth  reveal'd  in  Bible  or  in  heart, 

But  human  systems  added  to  a  part, 

Priestly  tradition,  fact  mixt  up  with  lies, 

Interpretation,  wordish  compromise, 

Thought  of  the  Spirit  struggling  out  to  view 

Too  wide-aberrant  from  direction  true 

Through  fleshy  medium  !     Patience,  Heart,  a  truce ! 

Here  are  but  earthen  vessels,  with  best  use 

Too  frail  and  scant  to  bear  without  abuse 

All  that  the  soul  holds !     If  Church  Government 

Need  forms  for  self,  like  a  wise  man  content 

To  rule  through  ruling  self,  so  let  it  sway. 

It  has  not  standards  absolute,  for  fray 

'Gainst  duteous  love  for  Him  of  peaceful  way, 

Because  corps-colors  differ  !     Loyal  Hearts 

May  guard,  and  may  advance  through  better  arts 

Their  Church,  the  Church  of  truth.     Naught,  I  aver, 

Thrives  less   through  force  than  truthful   character. 

XLIV. 

"  And  naught  can  rear  more  reverent  Piety 
Than  Thought  content  to  wait  till  it  can  see, 
Profaning  not  through  explanations  given 
Those  deeper  symbols,  clear  alone  to  Heaven. 
Systems  there  are,  so  part  and  join  control, 
That  who  profess,  profess  to  know  the  whole. 
There  is  not  left  one  notch  for  mystery  ; 
And,  without  mystery,  no  faith  can  be  ; 


154  LEARNING: 

Nor  without  faith,  religion.     Ah !  I  trow, 

The  moods  most  loving  claim  far  less  to  know ; 

Remembering  men  walk  by  faith,  not  sight, 

And,  therefore,  charity  alone  is  right : 

Or  if  they  plead,  remembering  they  who  speak 

Through  angel  tongues,  without  this  are  but  weak. 

Have  you  forgotten,  'twas  a  bigot  claim 

Made  pharisee  and  pope  both  lose  their  aim  ; 

KilPd  Christ ;  and,  if  it  dared,  might  kill  him  now 

Who,  with  the  self-same  spirit,  bid  one  bow 

Not,  for  the  public  eye,  to  priest  or  art, 

But  to  the  God  who  gazes  on  the  heart  ? 

Truth !    Truth    is    Sovereign,    not   the    speech !    nor 

sect ! 

Who  love   God's  Truth  love    God !     Yes  !  I  detect, 
Who  most  search  this,  kneel  most  to  mystery  ! 
First,  faithful  here,  and  then  to  what  shall  be  ! 
If  Heaven  fail  them  —  it  sooner  fails  the  worm, 
Faithless  to  Him  who  sends  the  Reason  storm, 
Skulking  from  Light  beneath  an  earthly  form !  " 


"  I  fear  such  slight  of  form,"  the  first  replied. 

"  Lax   laws    but   cause   lax   life."      "  Ah,"    said  my 

Guide  ; 

"  If  Church,  like  Nation  struggling  to  be  wise, 
Relax  restriction  that  true  Worth  may  rise, 
And  leave  Desire  all  form  Desire  should  prize, 
Or  royal  or  republicanic,  still 
It  is  not  Anarchy  best  sways  the  Will ! 
Nay  !  nay !     The  flimsiest  charity  on  earth, 
Thinner  than  bigot's  !  —  he  would  aim  at  worth  — 


A   POEM.  155 

Has  mood  that  dare  profane    in  plan  or  mirth 
The    Power,   by   which   souls,   taught   of  God,    are 

brought 

To  reverence    Right,  ere  strong  to   handle  thought. 
If  there  be  place  where  virtue  is  sustain'd ; 
Where  youth  and  ignorance  seem  safely  train'd ; 
There  meek  Responsibility  must  tread, 
Conforming    where,    through    forms,    the    Right    is 

led! 

Thence  Charity — Life's  final  victory, 
Because  Health  cannot  love  all  equally  — 
Yields  not  the  free  lust  of  the  prostitute,    . 
But  Love's  expression,  where  Command  is  mute  ; 
Where  Bible  vague,  there  it,  lest  Impious  Strife 
Tear  at  the  veil  which  God  has  hung  to  life  ! 
Loyal  to  well  tried  form,  this  Grace,  I  see, 
At  home,  ward  Thought  too  crude  for  liberty, 
Abroad,  beneath  much  talk  of  diverse  creed, 
Searching  the  heart,  the  source  of  all  pure  deed, 
Hoping  that  there,  tho'  words  and  ways  may  vie, 
Is  possibility  of  unity  ; 

That  there,  where  is  the  real  throne  of  Life, 
Dwells  Wish  to  influence  without  a  strife, 
Desire  for  truth  whence  Love  may  win  consent 
As  mild  as  He  who  in  the  garden  bent, 
Nor  needed  sword,  nor  more  expedient. 
Elsewise,  behold  fact  for  yourselves :  "  he  said.        "> 
Then  gazed  we  from  a  place  to  which  he  led. 

XLVI. 

There  was  descried  a  brightest  realm  in  view  j        j 
And  many  thronging  thither,  tho'  but  few 


I56  LEARNING: 

In  haste  did  seem  to  reach  it.     On  the  way 
They  would  pause  much,  with  much  to  scan,  and 

say 

Of  things  about.     Still  they  would  move  apace  ; 
And  whither  moved,  I  mark'd  a  spacious  place, 
Yet  crampt  by  buildings  ;    here  by  chapels  small, 
There  by  cathedrals  ;    and,  when  nigh  them,  all 
Did  diverse  homage,  cross  self,  or  bow  down, 
With  holy  glance  at  dress  of  black  or  brown  ; 
Or,  still  erect,  clasp  hands  of  friends,  or  some, 
With  folded  hands,  wait  but  for  love  to  come. 

XLVII. 

We,    too,    drew    nigh;    soon    forced,    like    most,    I 

ween,  — 
Though    one    could    trace,    too,    those    of   humbler 

mien,  — 

To  watch  the  throngs  most  zealous  to  be  seen. 
Ere  long,  was  heard  loud  talk,  where  men  admired, 
What  God  —  so  fear'd  the  soul  —  had  not  inspired. 
Past  that,  a  fretful  Zest  coaxt  peaceful  boon 
From    pitying    Spirits     sought     through    sigh    and 

swoon. 

Further,  'mid  crowds  with  cover'd  heads  or  bare, 
Broad-brimm'd  or  narrow-brimm'd  of  hat  or  hair, 
Sped  weary  gasping  sounds,  found  out  as  prayer 
From  Providential  print  men  bent  to  there. 
Then  music  lured.     We  had  join'd  with  some  choir, 
For  praise  was  rife,  but  none  did  lead  desire ; 
Only  soft  throats  seem'd  thankful  for  much  hire  ; 
Or  fearing  art,  too  chill  by  doggerel, 
Tones  shut  from  draft  of  blowing  organ's  swell ; 


A   POEM.  157 

Or  fearing  Nature,  chords  in  place  made  drear 

That  candles,  or  a  smoky  atmosphere, 

Or  worth  of  well-stain'd.  glass   make   Heaven  ooze 

near. 

Search  tired.      Still  thought  I,  "  Not  alone  for  me, 
True  Spirit  Life  has  forms,  like  nature,  free 
To  grow  from  One  Power,  yet  Infinitely !  " 

XLVIII. 

Just    then,    one    sauntering    by,    cried,    "Mark   you 

there  ! 

New  priests  !  like  nurses,  faithless  to  their  care, 
Who,  feeding  sweets   to  Sense  and  Selfishness, 
Do  coax  wrong  Passion  on  to  Life's  distress, 
These  soothe  the  soul  when  thoughts  of  sin  perplex^ 
Not  by  pure  thoughts  of  God,  lest  conflict  vex, 
But  by  dumbfounding  tones  of  men  and  boys, 
By  bows  and  beads,  sole  trace  of  household  joys, 
With  hints  that  faith  may  live  in  ears  and  eyes, 
To  damn  the  ignorant  and  distract  the  wise  !  " 

XLIX. 

"  Let  Facts    speak  !  "  said    my  Guide  ;   while,  'mid 

the  scene, 

Disputes  did  rise.     Alas  !  for  Life  serene ! 
Logic  left  Truth  reveal'd,  talk'd   cant,  and    creeds, 
Worship  devoid  of  love,  and  faith  of  deeds. 
Soon,  humblest  souls,  I  saw,  who  had  come  there 
In    search  of  faith ;    they    shunn'd    each    place    of 

prayer 

In  still  distaste,  or  doubt,  or  wild  despair. 
Near  by  gloom'd  an  abyss !     In  swift  retreat 


158  LEARNING: 

Full  many  crowded  that  way  !  thence  their  feet 
Slipt,  amid  cries  too  late  to  save  from  loss  !  — 
And  down  they  fell  where  no  light  and  no  cross ! 

L. 

61  Ah !  "  sigh'd  my  Guide,  "  what  wisdom   does    not 

know 

That  Earth,  not  Heaven,  has  made  religion  so  ? 
With  life  a  mystery  of  mysteries, 
What  comfort  has  the  soul  that  thoughtful  is, 
Save  trust  in  God  ?  that  source  of  life,  unseen  ? 
Life  may  join  all  things.     Suns,  with  stilly  mien, 
Draw  to  thin  clouds  thick  water  from  the  mire, 
To  cause  the  thunder  of"  the  lightning's  fire  ! 
Troubles  bring  doubt !  and  doubt  philosophy ! 
And  even  Love  finds  schools  in  bigotry ! 
Why  not  in  sects,  if  shape  to  benefit, 
Be  less  the  truth  itself,  than  made  for  it  ? 
Once  Tyrant  Form  taught  Faith  of  liberty :  — 
What   shall    the    Present   teach  ?      Oh,    Hope !    set 

free 

That  Chanty  which  -cannot  prompt  us  long, 
Ere  all  must  join  in  one  prayer,  and  one  song ! 

LI. 

"  E'en  now  Truth  comes  to  many  a  separate  search. 
Who  doubts  that  publican,  whate'er  his  Church, 
May  breathe  through  some  dead  body  of  a  prayer 
A  Spirit's  sigh  to  fetch  the  answer  there  ? 
Who  can  deny  to  ways  that  freest  roam 
The  yearnings  of  a  more  methodic  home  ? 
Ah!  they  who  trust  alone  to  Sovereign  might, 
Find  out  there's  much  to  do,  to  do  the  right! 


A   POEM.  159 

And  they  who  boast  the  power  of  human  will, 
Oft  fail,  to  feel  their  need  of  Mercy  still ! 

LII. 

"I  deem,  through  ways  diverse,  like  mighty  wings 

Of  some  vast  army,  Truth,  advancing,  brings 

First  one,  and  then  the  other  toward  the  foe, 

With  mingling  stratagem,  not  best  to  show, 

Fickle  to  sight,  mysterious  to  maintain 

The  progress,  slow  but  sure,  of  central  gain. 

'Mid  Theory  to  trust,  in  wise  defense, 

Faith,  tho'  it  mourn,  may  watch  with  confidence 

These  partial  victories  of  Partial  Right. 

We  learn !  —  tho'  all  the  Forms  that  loom  in  sight 

Be  controverting  Facts,  for  ever  nigh, 

Just  past  this  range  of  human  Theory ! 

LIII. 

"With  all  religious  life  from  oldest  sign 

Deeds  which  have  sprung  from  faith  in  deeds  divine, 

Better  not  doubt  the  soul's  truth,  trust  it  rather. 

Tho'  deist  tell  but  fact  of  God  the  Father, 

Humanitarian  speak  alone  of  Son, 

Or  pantheist  of  Spirit,  truth  is  one  ! 

And  tho'  the  lips  may  limit  and  confine, 

Speech  is  a  human  thing ;  the  soul  divine ! 

For  it  remains  a  Heaven,  where  Faith  can  rest, 

Tho'  Thought  seek  systems  better  than  the  best ; 

Whence  all  that  is  not  true  shall  cease  to  be  ; 

Whence  all  that  is  have  power  for  unity : 

Till  found,  we  wait ;  till  some  Columbus  here 

Shall  sail  about  this  other,  grander  sphere, 

And  prove  at  last  how  ways,  while  parting,  near! 


160  LEARNING:    A   POEM. 

LIV. 

"  Who  shall  he  be  to  test  for  skeptic  minds 
This  gravitating  law  of  love  which  binds  ? 
Thought,  Thought,  that  long  since  systematized  the 

star, 

'Tis  time  it  moved  to  find  out  what  we  are  ! 
Tis  time  this  wandering  World's  Philosophy 
Return  to  its  first  love  of  Unity  ! 
Not  like  the  Greek,  to  water,  air,  or  fire, 
But  mindful  ever  of  the  life  !  —  desire  ! 
With  proof  to  spring  and  end  in  argument, 
From  consciousness,  for  conscience  reverent, 
Its  premises,  like  touch  in  sympathy ! 
Its  logic,  like  to  life  in  certainty! 
Hope  must  it  speak  for  age  !  and  faith  for  youth ! 
A  substance,  with  expression  only  truth  ! 
For  substance,  with  existence  only  love  ! 
Oh  if  such  thrive  not  here,  it  shall  above, 
Where  He,  who  most  regards  the  Spirit's  weal, 
Bids  Faith  prevail,  when  Learning  learns  to  kneel." 

LV. 

He  paused :  then  said  —  "  Each  reverential  Star 
Draws  back  where  nears  the  Sun.     My  home  is  far : 
Now,  that  our  feet  approach,  once  more,  the  dell 
Where  first  we  met,  I  must  away :  farewell !  " 
"  Farewell !  "  both  said  ;  and,  turning,  he  had  gone. 
But  I  awaited  still  the  coming  dawn. 
And,  pondering  much  the  scenes  we  had  pass'd  by, 
Resolved,  ere  high  the  sun  or  broad  the  sky, 
They  should  not  lack  a  tale  to  testify. 


SOL. 

LIMBS  of  the  dying  body  ache  with  toil, 
But  the  undying  mind  when  most  unused  : 
Nature  abhors  a  vacuum,  no  less 
Than  her  true  children  all  things  void  in  life. 
These  need  not  wait  like  thoughts  to  implant  the  like, 
But  from  much  wish  oft  germinate  what  lacks, 
And  bear  most  fruit  where  grown  'mid  most  of  dearth  : 
Had  some   such   dearth  inspired  these  thoughts  on  Love  ? 
Their  scribe  was  one,  now  long  a  bachelor, 
Proud  most  of  proud  indifference,  seen  ne'er 
To  turn  and  watch  God's  beauty  in  a  face, 
Or  bend  his  eyelids  to  a  neighboring  tear 
Where  Pain  pass'd  by  in  wailing  agony, 
Or  e'en  lose  rein  of  smiles,  tho'  nature  'd  shaken 
All  jostling  incongruities  in  one:  — 
So  said  the  village  gossip.  —  Ah,  but  Earth, 
Serves  he  the  least  or  most  who  guardeth  best 
The  holy  shrine  of  an  Ideal  Life, 
Nor  draws  the  veil  to  one  impertinence  ?  — 
None  solved  this  problem  in  the  bachelor. 
But  long  it  was  before  the  electric  smile 
That  chased  the  glancing  fire  about  the  room, 
What  time  the  title  came,  had  played  away. 


u 


POEM    FIFTH. 


LOVING. 


LIFE  is  a  mystery,  mystery  bound  ; 
Above,  about,  unrest  profound  ; 
Behind,  a  dream  of  the  soul's  dim  home  ; 
Before,  a  scheme  for  the  mist  and  the  foam. 
The  winds  drive  on :    we  shudder,  but  steer : 
We  tack  for  comfort ;  but  drift  in  fear : 
We  cry  for  help ;   but  struggle  alone  ; 
Or  gain  no  gain,  that  is  all  our  own. 
We  pray  for  Heaven  :    if  Heaven  be  near, 
Some  beacons  of  peace  are  glimmering  here. 
Philosophy  come,  search  far  !  search  wide ! 
Past  Passion  and  Prejudice,  Precept  and  Pride. 
With  Heaven  the  haven,  life  cannot  dispense 
With  a  sigh  of  the    spirit,  or   sight  of  the  sense. 

• 
ii. 

Where,  where  is  good  ?     The    world   has  claims  : 
If  claiming  from  each,  then  each  has  aims  : 
And  all  the  wide  world  is  too  vast  for  the  plan 
That  looms  to  the  scope  of  any  one  man  : 
WE  MUST  DIVIDE  ! 

FOR    THE    WAYS   ARE    WIDE:! 


1 64  LOVING: 


III. 

This  hear  I  commanded, 

Through  shadows  withdrawn, 
'Mid  light  that  expanded 
Creation's  first  dawn  ! 
Off  fly  to  their  missions 
The  systems  and  stars 
To  stores  of  fruitions 

Infinity  bars  : 

And   high  heave    the   mountains: 
And  broad  stretch  the  plains  : 
And  up  burst  the  fountains  : 
And  down  fall  the  rains  : 
And  fragrant 

And  beautiful, 

Herbage  and  flower : 
And  vagrant 

And  dutiful 

Manhood,  a  power ! 
Our  glory 

It  is 
Time's  story 

Is  this. 

The  spirit  of  life 
Is  a  spirit  of  strife. 

The  calmest  and  best  of  us  is  but  a  knight 
Whose  rest  is  the  weariness  won  in  the  fight : 

And  the  purpose  of  deed  is  the  promise  of  life. 
The  world  whirls  away  :   we  spring  to  our  gage : 
And  bustle  and  jostle  from  childhood  to  age ! 


A    POEM.  165 


IV. 

Lo  !  the  feeble  wails 
Of  an  infant  voice, 
Too  young  for  the  tales 

Of  a  wandering  choice  ! 
The  weary  eyes  shrink  from  the  points  of  the  stars, 

From  touch  of  the  glance  of  the  world  that  is. 
The  ears  are  shaken  by  treads  and  jars ! 

The  face  looks  fright  to  mysteries  ! 
The  small  hands  clutch  for  motes  of  the  air ; 

For  plaits  of  the  dress  ;  for  folds  of  the  bed  ; 
But  marvels  move,  and  mingle,  and  tear, 

Redoubled  by  every  shred  ! 
The  feet  that  balance  the  tottering  brain 
Steal  out  the  sly  doof  ;    and  soak  in  soft  rain  ; 
Or  stumble,  with  shrieks,  for  barbarian  joys, 
The  roar  and  the  rush  of  terrible  boys  ! 
And  wheels  that  grind  omnipotent  noise! 
Or  call :    "  My  mother !   the  flowers  are  sweet ! 
My  mother !    look  out !  see  the  long,  long  street ! 
And  all  the  big  houses  !     Oh  !   what  do  they  do, 
Those    strange,    strange    people    that    don't    know 

you  ?  — 
That  fat,  funny  thing  !    it  kicks  and  it  cries  !  — 

How  can  we  be  like  one  another? 
Why  don't  it  come  here  from  the  naughty  flies, 

Come  here  then,  and  have  a  dear  mother  ?  " 


The  lone,  little  being,  all  wilder'd  by  needs, 

And  thoughts  that  it  can't  speak,  or  nobody  heeds, 


1 66  LOVING: 

Oh,  where  can  it  find  any  respite  or  rest, 

But  there,  again,  on  that  cherishing  breast, 

Its  hope,  —  the  comfort,  so  many  times  given, 

Its  faith,  —  that  of  saints  in  God  and  in  Heaven  ! 

VI. 

Yes,  Heaven !    it  too  for  the  soul  has  aims  ! 
If  claiming  from  each,  to  each  it  proclaims : 
For  love,  one  end 
Where  all  things  blend  : 

WE  MAY  UNITE  ! 

FOR  THE  WAYS  ARE  BRIGHT  ! 


And  lo!  when  words  have  been  spoken, 

The  words  of  no  other, 
The  little  life  that  had  broken 

Is  join'd  to  the  mother  ! 

VIII. 

Rest  there,  gentle  Infant !    in  all  of  thy  years 
The  world  cannot  furnish  for  haven  from  tears 

A  calmer  or  constanter  love. 
Take  heart  thence  for  service  if  parent  be  wise 
To  yield  to  young  longings,  if  Charity  prize 

Weak  nature  as  moulded  above. 

But,  ah  !  if  the  unwise  welcome  thy  fears 

With  spirit  directing  toward  storms  of  the  years, 

More  bent  to  their  wish  than  thy  good, 
The  first  of  all  parents  could  no  more  undo 
Than  those  of  the  present  whose  s.elf-seeking,  too, 

Gives  birth  both  to  nature  and  mood  ! 


A   POEM.  167 

God    guide    the    home-handling !      The   frail    is   no 

fiend  : 
Where  powers  still  latent  lurk,  waiting  till  wean'd, 

God  speed  but  the  weaning  of  Love  ! 
Love  bide,  howe'er  guided !     The  Will  is  no  wreck 
With  truth  to  confide,  and  age  to  protect, 

So  wish  may  be  aided  above. 

IX. 

Oh  Maidenhood !  learn  to  be  mothers ! 

Lest  the  babe   move  away 
While  the  training  it  gains  not  from  others 

Your  doubtings  delay. 
Instinctive  to  spiritual  birth, 

And  impulse  of  growth, 
'Twill  leap  from  you  o'er  the  earth, 

No  matter  how  loath, 
To  mingle  its  feeble  means  in  the  strife, 
Where  the   stoutest  of  us  must  battle  for   life. 

What  culture  we  need  in  the  mothers  ! 

Of  wisdom  what  wealth  ! 
Those  slender  limbs  mould  as  few  others 

To  outlines  of  health. 
And  when  the  little  eye  dims 

To  its  trifles  of  quest, 
All  quaint  of  its  wonders  and  whims, 

She,  she  must  give  rest. 
And  the  petty  desire  of  that  tenderer  tone 
To  God  is  as   great  and    as  dear  as  her  own. 

What  work  to  be  done  by  the  mothers  : 
What  stimulant  given  !  — 


1 68  LOVING: 

A  love,  to  grow  broad  as  all  brothers, 

And  high  as  the  Heaven  ; 
The  precepts  of  living  explain'd 

From  cradle  to  school ; 
And  thought  to  be  planted  and  train'd 

For  the  sage  or  the  fool ; 

All  the  woe  that  our  Earth  could  inherit  from  Eve, 
Through  woman  again  to  lessen  and  leave. 

x. 

But  swiftly,  too  swiftly  hies  time  : 

Mark  !  immature  moods,  grown  strong, 
Outgrow  all  the  nursery  rhyme, 
So  potent  in  earlier  prime, 

Hush'd  sadly,  to  feel,  ere  long, 
WE  MUST  DIVIDE  !  _,: 

FOR  THE  WAYS" ARE  WIDE! 


The  school-house  bell  ! 
What  a  tale  does  it  tell 

To  the  child  who,  first,  with  book  and  slate 
And  bounding  step  for  the  pictured  fate, 
Goes  out  from  home  where  the  dear  eyes  yearn, 
Out  into  the  world,  with  a  world  to  learn ! 
Alas  !  for  the  soul  that  sought  for  change  ! 
Those  crowds  before 
Fall  back  from  the  door, 
With  a  chill,  wide  space  for  the  strange ; 
Until,  to  the  gaze  of  quizzical  boys, 
His  hopeful  face 


A   POEM.  169 

Drops,  shy  apace  ; 

For  he  walks  alone ; 

And  has  hush'd  the  tone 
Of  all  that  was  fond  in  joys. 
Ah  then  to  his  vision  the  earth  grows  dim, 
More  cheery  without,  more  sad  with  him  1 
And  the  pride  that  shuns  disparaging  looks 
Unweariedly  wrestles  for  worth  in  books. 


The  school  and  its  sport ! 

What  a  world  they  import 
To  the  youth,  when  both  appear  old  ! 
When  shrinking  nerves  become  bold  ! 
And,  toughen'd  past  tilts,  once  seeming  so  stout, 
Self  wheels,  in  turn,  to  test  all  about ! 

Alas  !  for  the  master  that  hoped  him  wise  I 

The  questions  are  miss'd 

At  the  head  of  the  list, 
And   a  younger  carries  the  prize. 
But.  if,  from  a  hight  of  love  and  of  zeal, 

The  teacher  inspire 

Through  toils  that  tire, 

What  nobler  throne 

Can  Honor  own  ? 
What  station,  surer  of  weal  ? 
There  is  life  that  moves  with  a  brighter  train  : 
There  is  power  for  winning  more  glitter  of  gain  : 
Retired  but  God-like,  naught  more  dear 
To  others  and  self  than  the  mission  here. 


170  LOVING: 

XIII. 

The  school,  with  its  cares  ! 
What  a  life  there  prepares 
For  the  man  of  right  or  of  wrong ! 
For  the  great,  perchance,  then  least  of  the  throng, 
Whose  compass,  through  all  those  whims  of  his, 
Was  a  conscience,  stronger  than  mysteries  ! 
The  first  in  the  start  may  fail  of  the  race ; 
For  far  is  the  crown 
Where  rank  is  renown, 
And  many  allure  to  the  base. 
The  hand  that  steadies  the  rudder  from  ill, 
And  minds  but  duty 
And  waits  for  booty, 
Steers  clear  of  offense, 
To  grow  conqueror  thence  : 
The  test  of  life's  pilot  is  will. 
For  the  course  of  earth  is  a  course  of  toil ; 
The  sooner  we  learn  it,  the  less  we  recoil  : 
Who  rounds  at  the  goal  of  the  world  with  joy, 
Learn'd  this  in  the  little  world,  when  a  boy. 


The  new  has  claims 

That  the  old  has  not : 
How  much  for  games 
Is  the  home  forgot ! 

There  is  sport  for  green,  and  river,  and  hall  ; 
Kite  and  see-saw,  fishing  and  ball  ; 
Clubs  for  rhetoric,  reading,  and  fun ; 
Books  to  study  and  slight  and  shun  : 


A   POEM.  17.1 

And  fresh  little  thoughts  spring,  clinging  to  each, 
With  a  wonderful  blooming  of  high-color'd  speech  ; 
And,  quick  and  sensitive,  bare  of  all  sheath, 
A  marvelous  action  of  life  beneath, 
More  honest  and  valiant  for  half  of  the  right 
Than  your  older  ways,  with  little  more  light ; 
With  feeling !  with  feeling  !     Ah  !  that  is  the  thing  ! 
And  over  the  world  the  Spirit  will  sing, 

UNITE  !    UNITE  ! 

FOR  THE  WAYS  ARE  BRIGHT 


XV. 

The  child-life  dodges  the  stare 

And  test  of  spectacled  age. 
It  sighs  for  something  to  spare 

The  microscope  of  the  sage. 
Sad,  after  the  prize  has  been  won  ; 

Sad,  after  the  cheer  of  the  throng  ; 
Sad,  after  the  parent's  "  well  done  •  " 

Oh  what  is  the  thing  that  is  wrong? 
He  knows  not  till,  flushing  of  face, 

With  eyes  that  the  heart  shines  through, 
Forsaking  the  shout  and  the  chase, 

One  follows  his  steps  that  withdrew. 
He  knows  not  till  feelings  and  aims, 

As  timid,  yet  tired  of  control, 
Throw  off  all  the  form  that  restrains, 

And  touch  their  soul  to  his  soul. 
Oh  joy  of  the  Spirits  in  Heaven  ! 

Is  it  this  ?  —  No  checking  of  shame, 
Naught,  naught  to  be  hid  or  forgiven, 


17 2  LOVING: 

Constraining  communion  of  aim  ? 
And  can  all  the  twist  of  the  creeds 

Entangle  true  faith  in  the  days 
When  nothing  of  selfishness  pleads, 

And  naught  of  utility  sways  ?  — 
For  the  world  and  its  ways  have  been  given 

To  speak  to  the  sense  of  the  soul ; 
And  naught  in  the  Bible  or  Heaven, 

But  love  feels  a  part  of  the  whole  ! 

XVI. 

Romance  is  a  dream 
That  age  must  esteem  ;  ^ 
For  none  whom  it  never  possest, 
Were  ever  the  bravest  or  best ! 
The  soul,  moved  most  by  the  earth, 

Is  sensitive  first  to  a  part. 
'Tis  virtue  would  open  to  worth  ; 

'Tis  vice  seeks  earlier  art. 
A  pledge  of  honor  begun, 

Temptations  will  fail 
While  deeds  of  the  confident  shun 

What  caution  must  veil. 

XVII. 

Yes  !  Love  is  a  sovereign,  far  too  rare 

For  Pelf  to  touch,  or  a  Lie  to  dare  ! 

A  hallow'd  sovereign  -where  awed  Delight 

Must  ever  worship  in  robes  of  white, 

For  ever  reverent,  kneel  to  see 

The  shrine  of  its  homage  in  mystery  ! 

True  Love  has  a  life  for  the  inmost  heart, 


A   POEM. 

Content  in  closeted  hours  to  impart 
Its  whisper'd  praises!  amid  the  throng, 
Tho'  tones  more  mellow  fill  word  and  song, 

Enough  in  feeling, 

Without  revealing, 

One  eye  in  walking, 

One  ear  in  talking, 

One  heart  exultant  at  well  earn'd  pride :  — 
To  tattle  of  love  were  suicide  ! 
Self  sates  in  that  service  of  sweetest  pain, 

Oppressing  with  too  much  worthiness  ; 
In  airy  beauty,  ideal  of  reign, 

Who'd  dare    to  breathe  on  a   bubble  of  bliss  ! 

One  ruder  grasp, 

It  dodges  the  clasp. 

The  veil  of  that  Holy  of  Holies  is  torn 
By  moods  meant  not,  when  temper  is  worn. 

The  glory  has  flown 

One  impious  tone. 

The  boy  is  right 

Who  weeps  in  the  night. 

XVIII. 

Dear  vows,  they  are  meant  when  made, 
Of  Friendship,  forever  to  last. 

But,  where  the  gleam  laid 

Can  the  sun  send  shade, 
When  the  bright,  high  noon  is  past. 

But,  even  the  night 

Has  a  holy  light ; 
And,  whenever  the  day  return  again, 

There's  a  spot  that  the  same 


174  LOVING: 

Old  sun  will  inflame  ; 

For   the    soul   there    are  joys,  tho'   the   boys    have 
grown  men. 

XIX. 

How  soon  the  tints  of  morn  are  away !  . 
Come  sounds  of  storm  !    come  skies,  so  gray  ! 
To  the  sense  above 
All  may  seem  love : 
Our  lower  minds,  to  the  right  jejune, 
When  the  calls  for  work  begin  to  tune, 
May  hear  not  chords  that  the  whole  is  giving, 
But  only  a  part,  and  misjudge  living. 
Whatever  the  truth,  life  must  decide 
Not,  not  from  the  World  that  aye  replied  : 

DIVIDE  !    DIVIDE  ! 

FOR  THE  WAYS  ARE  WIDE  ! 

XX. 

There  comes  a  time,  none  can  postpone, 
When  all  must  move  into  life  alone ; 
Must  choose  for  right ;  or  choose  for  wrong ; 
And  the  path  they  take  is  a  path  life-long. 
What  tho'  some  milder  memories  know 
Nor  hour,  nor  year,  that  turn'd  them  so  ? 
What   tho'  some    shrink  from    the  woes   before 
With  a  shock  that  is  never  forgotten  more? 
All  eyes  had  watch'd  those  paths  of  change, 
Till  naught  that  came  seem'd  wholly  strange : 
And  tho'  but  little  of  virtue  or  vice 

In  thought  of  earth  or  of  skies, 
These  whims  to  wishes  and  ways  entice ; 

And  steps  must  follow  the  eyes. 


A   POEM.  175 

Ah,  so  I  know, 

With  mercy  for  all, 

No  matter  how  small 
The  thought  of  things  to  endure, 

Our  first  cure  of  sin 

Is  not  to  begin, 
And  to  keep  the  memory  pure. 


There  are  many  paths  where  good  can  guide  : 
Whichever  they  take,  men  must  divide. 
And  not  one  flight  of  the  world  is  forgot : 
Some  snob  will  snufHe  at  every  lot. 

Clear  bent  for  the  best  is  quoted  as  bad  : 
Once  John  had  a  devil :   once  Christ  was  a  sot : 

Our  toil  —  what  of  it  ?  —  is  lonely  and  sad. 
But  God  made  all,  despite  the  throng 
Who  rank  His  difference  right  and  wrong. 
God   rules  :   then,  perchance,  we    are  wiser   for  act 
Which   learns    from  feeling  as   much  as  from  fact, 
E'en  taught,  through  the   injuring  zeal  of  our  race, 
That  gentleness  too  is  a  Christian  grace  ; 
E'en  taught  with  Him  whose  patience  mild 
Spake  once  —  to  point  the  man  to  the  child. 

XXII. 

How  much  we  need  that  lesson,  alas  ! 
We  sally  forth  :    we  mix  with  the  mass : 
We  meet  the  world  :    and  it  scoffs,  to  show 
How  little  about  the  world  we  know. 

When  only  a  boy, 
To  know  a  little,  that  was  our  joy  : 


1 76  LOVING: 

But,  now,  to  the  man 
Temptations  begin    as  Adam's  began. 
Like  him  we  all  would  be  gods ;    and  boast 
All  knowledge  from  under  to  uppermost. 
The  day  we  mourn  a  limit  of  call, 
We  choose  the  means  to  conquer  or  fall  ; 
By  faith  in  the  Infinite  Spirit  above 
To  master  ourself,    to  accept  with  love 

A  partial  dower, 

And  that  concentrate  into  a  power  ; 
Or  choose  the  means,  where  a  wide  Pretence 
That  weakens  the  fortress  of  sure  defence 
Shall  yield  to  attack  when  the  first  surprise 
With  the  boasted  front  of  the  hypocrite  vies. 
Earth  !    Earth  !   win  you  that  trial  of  woe, 
How  suddenly  old  these  young  hearts  grow  !  — 
They  cease  to  mature  in  truth,  too  proud 
To  ask  one  boon  of  the  vaunting  crowd. 
They  cease  to  mature  in  love  that  lends 
No  .more  than  frailty  borrows  of  friends. 
They  cease  to  mature  in  Godship,  and  trust 
The  rank  of  the  world  that  ranks  by  lust. 
Earth !    Earth  away !    nor  tempt  to  that  mould  ! 
There's    a   brand    for    death    from    the    stamp   you 

hold  : 

And  but  one  life  of  perpetual  youth, 
And  that  from  faith  in  the  Spirit  of  Truth. 

XXIII. 

Ye  too,  vain  souls  !  with  some  truth  to  praise, 
When  will  ye  learn 
How  much  ye  earn 


A   POEM.  177 

For  wrong  and  the  world  by  bigoted  ways  ? 
Tho'  spirit  of  party  may  win 
By  rating  its  opposite,  "  sin," 
To  ponder  and  halt 
Is  seldom  all  fault ; 
A  natural  smile, 
It  never  is  guile  ; 
But  many  a  false  array  of  Zeal 
Has  frighten'd  the  honest  Truth  from  weal : 
And  many  a  blast  of  pious  hate 
Is  blown  by  the  devil  to  rouse  his  mate. 
Oh  how  dare  a  Christian  libel  — 
What  widen  with  light 
But  never  are  trite  — 
The  right  and  wrong  of  the  Bible? 
Enlarge  and  lessen,  as  self  inspires 
The  fretful  fancy  of  peevish  desires  ?  — 
So  guilt  and  innocence  blend  in  the  end  : 
Such  serve  but  what  they  are  willing  to  lend. 

XXIV. 

Let  Spirit  of  Charity  sway, 

With  patience  for  virtue  that  vice  may  away  ! 

Ye  zealots,  believe  ! 
The  rude  can  only  train  to  deceive  ; 
And   the   stench  of  a  marsh,  that  breath  of  a   lie, 
Before  or  behind  there's  a  vice  that  is  nigh. 
Praise   God    for    all   frankness  !      To    zest   of   the 

boy 

Leave  innocent  whim,  tho'  but  vapory  joy, 
But  the  mount  cascade  of  the  earlier  stream, 
Too  soon,   too  soon  comes  end  of  the  dream  : 
12 


178  LOVING: 

Away,  away 

Float  spatter  and  spray ; 
But,  surely  as  rills  roll  on  to  the  sea, 
The  pure  depths  flow  to  Eternity  ! 
Life's  Love,  that  royal  life  of  the  soul, 
Who'll  kill  ?  —  No  greater  exists  to  control : 
But  Patience,  its  offspring  and  equal,  may  out : 
To  love,  this  is  wisdom  need  wait  for  no  doubt ! 

XXV. 

The  thought  is  of  action,  but  ardor  to  till, 
Or  weaker  or  stronger, 
Is  not  supreme  longer, 
When  real  life  matches  ideals  of  will. 
For  life  is  love's  center,  a  myth  without  this, 
And,  sooner  or  later,  we  know  of  the  bliss : 
The  goblet  of  Time,  it  fills  to  the  brim  : 
Live  high  !    is  the  cry,  till  the  dizzy  eyes  swim ! 
Live   high  !    and  the  glass,  it  jingles  and   clashes  I 
We    drink,  till    we  reel,  the  hot   fire  as    it  flashes  ! 
The  world,  it  whirls  around  ancl  around  — 
•Oh  soul,  is  the  center  of  being,  then,  found  ? 
.So  bright,  ne'er  the  world !   they  are  stars  that  sur 
round  ; 

'Tis    Heaven !    high    Heaven  !    hark  !    hark  !    the 
spheres  sound  : 

UNITE  !    UNITE  ! 

FOR    THE    WAYS    ARE    BRIGHT  ! 
XXVI. 

Oh  Search  that  was  longest,  Oh  World  that  was  wide, 
Oh  Heart  that  was  toss'd  on  a  compassless  tide, 


A   POEM.  179 

Waves,  wild  of  commotion,  ye  hush  into  rest, 
For  there,  beyond,  looms  the  land  of  the  blest ! 

Oh  Eyes  that  had  strain'd  for  the  form  of  delight, 
Oh  Ears  that  had  listen'd  the  long,  long  night, 
Oh  Hands  that  claspt  vaguely  what  dropt  from,  you 

dead, 
By  guile  of  the  phantom  no  more  be  misled. 

Tis   Truth    that   here   welcomes.     Oh    Beauty,    thy 

beams 
Have  burn'd  through  all  mists  that  obscured  thee  in 

dreams ! 

Ne'er  blush  of  a  cheek  so  bloom'd  to  confess  ; 
Ne'er  Purity  spotless,  so  pledged  in  the  dress. 

Come  hither  and  conquer,  oh  Spirit  of  Love  ! 
Oh  Captive-Heart  flutter  !    thy  life  hies  above  !  - 
Sweet  death,  to  be  dying  from  pierce  of  an  eye ! 
To  fall,  and  be  lifted  to  live  in  the  sky ! 

On,  dearest  of  Seraphs  !    they  lie  who   would  trace 
Aught  dearer  in  holier,  happier  race. 
The  reverent  spirit  yields  to  the  sight  — 
It  yieldeth  to  God  where  love  is  the  might. 

XXVII. 

In  the  day  transfiguring  earth  and  skies, 

How  blest  is  the  light  of  a  confidence  sure 
What  Power  makes  all  life  be  and  endure  ! 

It  comes  when,  filling  with  love,  we  rise 
Regenerate  by  the  Spirit  of  Truth : 

It  comes  with  assent  that  glorifies 

A  soul  possessing  Ideal  of  youth. 


180  LOVING: 

Ne'er  sang  the  birds  so  thrillingly  sweet ! 
And  ne'er  so  clear  the  rills  at  the  feet ! 

The  leaves  are  all  flowers ! 

And  crystal  all  showers  ! 
Through   the    clouds   come   green    hills,   growingly 

grand, 

Like  the  nearing  shores  of  a  Spirit-land  ! 
And  those  red  stars  burn  into  the  soul ! 
We  melt  far  out  in  a  calm  control ! 
We  faint  in  the  lap  of  the  fragrant  air ! 
So  dear !    so  dear !  we  die  to  all  care. 
Ay,  she  that  has  won  in  that  moment  of  bliss, 
Holds  all  Immortality  worth  not  this ! 
Nay,  nay,  we  have  gain'd  the  life  above  — 
Who'd  dare  to  deny  it  to  our  first  love  ?  — 
We  have,  we  have  Eternity! 
But  bright  suns  rise,  to  set,  may  be. 
How  blest  are  they  who  never  find  out 
How  earthly  love,  like  its  home,  shifts  about! 

XXVIII. 

What  is  Hell?     Ah  mark  it!  there's  life  on  earth 
Bleedingly  torn  from  all  it  is  worth  : 
Things  are  rent  that  nature  allied  : 
Wish  and  all  of  its  ways  divide. 
Hope  there  is,  wretchedness  !  love  there  is,  death ! 
Bodies  for  feeling,  yet  feeling  all  breath  ! 
Faith  that  is  fickle !  and  freak  that  stays  ! 
Scorchings  forever  !  yet  chills  from  the  blaze ! 
Music,  yet  misery !  cheering,  yet  groan ! 
Cherish'd  one  hated !  and  crowded,  yet  lone ! 
White  wings,  dipt,  that  spatter  in  mud ! 
Stars  to  look  at,  and  dirt  for  a  cud! 


A  POEM.  181 


XXIX. 

What  wisdom  is  this,  the  elders  presage, 
That  frankness  of  feeling  must  wait  upon  age  ? 
Perhaps  it  were  better,  in  life's  growing  prime, 
To  live  to  our  nature  than  cater  for  crime. 
Love,  rarest  of  passions,  with  burnings  untold, 
It  melteth  the  being,  to  turn  out  the  gold  : 
One  sound  of  its  kindling,  vice  hears  as  a  knell, 
And  sinks  from  that  Heaven,  as  far  as  to  Hell. 
Perhaps  it  were  manlier,  nobler,  for  most 
To  live,  while  they  live,  than  delay  for  the  ghost 
While  all  that  is  in  them  is  yearning  to  band, 
Give  heart  for  acceptance,  as  well  as  a  hand. 
Accursed,  all  civilized,  cautious  alloy 
That  weakens  true  virtue,  or  lessens  true  joy, 
That  dams  into  calmness  the  flow  of  the  heart, 
To  winter  the  icy  sparkle  of  art. 

XXX. 

tOne  seeks  not  to  rhyme 

An  excuse  for  a  crime 
Who  speaks  but  a  truth  that  is  true  in  all  time, 

And  says  that  the  art 

Of  breaking  the  heart 
Is  not  confined  to  one  sex,  in  the  start. 

Who  are  they  that  dance 

With  early  romance, 
And  beacon  all  Nature  to  love,  with  a  glance  ? 

They  are  girls  who  decoy 

The  more  modest  boy 
To  truth  but  a  flash,  for  faith  but  a  toy. 


182  LOVING: 

Who  are  they  that  start 

Their  hand  for  the  heart, 
Then  fling  down  the  mitten,  to  see  how  we  smart  ? 

They  are  maids  who  propose 

We  love  as  do  those 
Who  have  flirted  their  limited  lot  to  a  close. 

Who  are  they  enjoin 

The  beauty  of  coin, 
And  shrug,  if  we  doubt  of  the  soul  they  purloin  ? 

They  are  matrons  who  trade 

The  life  of  the  maid, 
And  mention  a  match  as  a  bargain,  well  paid. 

Who  are  they  that  sigh 

As  we  question  the  why : 

"  There's    nothing    like    learning,    you'll    learn-  by 
and  by  " ? 

They  are  women  who  teach 

Young  honor  a  speech, 
To  ruin  all  others  that  come  in  its  reach.     » 


XXXI. 

Oh  soul  that  found  living  so  sacredly  sweet, 
Can  things  that  we  worship  collapse  into  cheat  ? 
High  Spirit  of  Faithfulness,  what !  hast  thou  died  ? 
Can  Love  kneel  prostrate,  and  yet  be  denied  ? 
Fond  Promise  that  lured  to  the  marvels  above, 
Nor  hinted  that  Hatred  was  tracking  on  Love, 
Can  manhood  be  led  up  so  far,  but  to  fall  ? 
And  must  farewell  be  the  end  of  it  all  ? 


A   POEM.  183 

Go  Memory,  vanish !     Come  Reason  to  Rage. 
There's   nothing    that   smarts,   but    health   may    as 
suage. 

Away  with  a  madness  that  hasted  to  be  : 
What  Ridicule  follows  let  Influence  flee ! 
To  push  and  to  paddle  the  rill  of  a  rhyme, 
Scant  waters  beneath,  and  a  scanty  sublime,  — 
Out,  out  of  such  folly  !  here  now  to  the  land  ! 
Farewell !  Oh  Wisdom  !  give  vigor  to  stand  ! 

Farewell  —  ah,  to  feel  it !  —  farewell    to  the  dream  ! 

There's  something  far  better  in  life,  than  to  seem  ; 

Far  better,  with  glory  to  win  or  to  miss, 

Than  languidly  lulling  the  doll  of  a  bliss  ! 

Let  love  unrequited  live  not,  to  control : 

'Tis     the     fancy    of    feeling,    the     foam     of    the 

soul ! — 
Yet    Life,    how    much    dearer!    could    reason    and 

right 
Still  prosper  with  pleasure !    Farewell  to  the  light !  — 

Farewell  to  delusion !     Let  truth  but  appeal ! 
Hark,  rises  a  din !     See,  flashes  a  steel !  — 
What  bodes  in  the  distance? — Now  gird  on -with 

might !  — 

It  may  be  to  conquer  !  —  it  must  be  to  fight !  — 
Mount !  —  In    with    the   spurs  !  —  The  trumpet !  — 

Away ! 

The  crowning  of  bliss  come  after  the  fray  !  — 
Charge  up !  and  charge  onward !  —  The  field,  it  is 

wide  — 


184  LOVING: 

Farewell  to  the  phantom  !  — •  Here's  life  !  —  It  had 

lied! 
DIVIDE  !     DIVIDE  ! 

FOR    THE    WAYS    ARE    WIDE  ! 

XXXII. 

Oh  why  do  we  sever,  despoiling  the  heart  ? 
With  groans  for  pleasure,  and  cheers  for  smart, 
We  buckle  in  feeling ;  we  buckle  on  pain  : 
We  tighten  the  nerves,  that  tingle  and  sprain  : 
We  wrench  at  the  heart's  frail  strings,  until 
We've  snapt  the  tenderest  cords,  with  our  skill : 
And  Life's  sweet  music  ?  there's  no  more  tune  ! 
We  dig  in  the  earth,  down,  down  for   a  boon, 
Where  never  comes  sun  ;  where  never  comes  moon 
Nay !  that's  not  half  of  the  woe,  not  half ! 
We  lie  to  our  nature :  we  twit,  and  we  laugh : 

We  dare 

To  jeer  of  the  friendship  gone : 

We  dare,  yet  there 
Are  Christ  and  John. 

XXXIII. 

There  are  times  when  the  meanest  man  bows  down 
To  hide  in  the  dirt  his  dress  of  the  clown. 
But  the  meanest  man,  he  bows  too  late : 
His  eyes  are  red,  and  his  lips  inflate. 
Don't  buy,  tho'  cheap,  that  ruffian  : 
The  sweet  is  the  seasoning  not  the  man. 
Whatever  the  maids  have  left  in  the  bowl 
Is  handled  and  hack'd  to  the  hash  of  a  soul. 


A   POEM.  185 

As  well  trust  apples  of  Sodom !  —  with  gnashes. 

Who  tastes  that  dainty  bites  in  the  ashes. 

As  well  pursue  a  Will-o'-Wisp's  flare !  — 

That  fire  of  devotion  is  all  in  the  air. 

As  well  touch  a  carcass!  —  those  pulsings  avow'd 

Are  worms  that  are  crawling  round  under  a  shroud. 

No  beauty  of  soul  is  there  ;  gross  is  the  beast : 

The  source,  not  the  right,  of  repentance  has  ceast. 

The  Spirit  Ideal,  that  would  woo  above, 

Drive  off !  and  have  hell !  where  nothing  to  love  ! 

XXXIV. 

Some  more,  some  less,  with  little  to  love, 
All,  all  of  us  leave  the  sky  to  the  dove. 
We  delve  away,  in  the  depth  of  our  trade  ; 
And  all  are  dusty  before  well  paid. 
Some  like  the  dust ;  some  mourn  its  need  ; 
And  some  gaze  cheerly  toward  end  of  the  deed. 
The  most  sink,  prostitutes  hugging  to  all, 
Good  bad  or  indifferent,  beauty  or  scall, 

Till  each  love  Christ  would  have  kept 

Dies  out  of  the  man,  unwept ; 
Love's  natural  hate  of  the  deeds  unkind, 

It  pleads  from  the  face  no  blush  : 

There  bides  but  the  counterfeit  flush, 
The  paint  that  allures  to  the  lust  left  behind. 

XXXV. 

What  power  can  save 
When  Forms  would  enslave  ? 
Shall  one,  when  the  foes'  ranks  wide  enroll, 
Forget  his  soul  ? 


1 86  LOVING: 

With  ever?  flag  of  a  high  cause  furl'd, 
Yield  up  the  fight  ?  —  a  man  of  the  world 
Who  struggled  once,  was  conquer'd  thence, 
And  squats  like  a  beggar  that  smirks  for  pence, 

Who  dandles  his  palms 

And  storms  and  calms, 
For  a  paltry  pittance  or  pride  to  please 
With  a  sneer  for  those,  and  a  smile  for  these  ? 

xxxvi. 

Nay,  nay,  oh  Faith!     Good  giveth  a  goal 
Where  will  itself  wills  life  for  the  soul. 
Him,  buried  below,  breath  blesses  above, 
And  duty  on  earth  aye  journeys  toward  love. 
As  long  as  a  muscle  or  mind  can  live, 
The  heart  of  life  has  something  to  give. 
Let  languid  feeling  push  for  the  high : 
The  love,  still  living,  will  love  what  is  nigh. 
Mayhap,  in  the  time  when  help  seems  far, 
The  soul  first  turns  where  the  best  gains  are  : 
The  poor  and  the  sick  and  the  loveless  foe 
First    learn   from    the    humbled    what    God    would 
show. 

XXXVII. 

Let  duty  be  done,  and  worth  will  attend. 

Tho'  fade  each  form  once  called  a  friend, 

Believe,  believe  Infinity 

But  thus  divides  Earth's  ministry. 

We  hear  its  voice :  we  know  its  needs : 

We  journey  toward  our  separate  deeds  : 

And  oh !  the  further  from  the  world 


A   POEM.  187 

Life's  destined  banners  be  unfurFd, 
We  grow,  the  higher  lifts  our  call, 
The  less  to  one,  the  more  to  all, 
Until,  like  Christ  on  the  mountain  brow, 
To  God  alone  we  trust  our  vow. 
Ay!  there  be  those  so  far  do  soar 

That  a  single  man 

Is  lost  to  the  scan, 

And  the  voice  of  the  confident  heard  no  more : 
Years  !  years  !  when  the  loveliest  face 
Seems  only  a  framing  wherein  to  trace 
A  part  of  an  interest  felt  in  the  race. 

XXXVIII. 

The  celibate  priest 

Had  something  to  laud, 
If  nature  had  ceast, 

Or  man  were  a  God. 
All  things  created  have  need  of  a  sun  : 
There  is  no  manhood  complete  but  in  one. 
Watch  well !   where  the  highway  of  life  is  kept, 
However  dim  by  the  storms  beswept, 
The  strength  of  the  world  is  spent  in  a  blast ; 
The  strength  of  the  Spirit  appears  at  the  last: 
WE  MAY  UNITE! 
FOR  THE  WAYS  ARE  BRIGHT! 

XXXIX. 

A-faint  in  the  gloom  so  rife, 

Light !  light  breaks  through  !     Is  it  life  ? 

I've  seen  a  face  that  came,  a  creation, 


1 88  LOVING: 

A  sun,  to  cluster  a  constellation 

Of  beautiful,  bright  ideas  ! 
And  over  the  will  that  slept, 
And  dream'd  of  the  guard  it  kept, 
There  stole  the  sweetest  power  to  possess, 
So  like  to  the  Beauty  of  Holiness, 

Awaking,  one  had  no  fears  ! 
Was  it  something  new  or  something  old  ? 
How  could  it  be  new,  and  faith  so  bold  ? 
How  could  it  be  old,  and  hope  not  cold  ? 
Or,  could  it  be  both  ?  —  so  dull  to  the  good, 
The  world  waits  long  to  learn  what  it  should  : 
There  is  memory  far  more  real  than  sight; 
And  state  immortal  where  age  is  might. 

XL. 

The  years,  how  slightly  they  change  true  life  ! 
We  broke  for  a  look,  and  a  whisper  of  strife  : 
We  said  to  the  seasons  :  "  Come,  fold  ye  between  !  " 
The  winters  were  chill ;   but  the  past,  it  was  green. 

We  called  all  our  passion  and  pride  into  might : 
We  sought  for  another  ;   none  sated  the  sight : 
We    push'd    through    the   city :    we  stroll 'd  through 

the  park  : 
One  spoke  in  the  silence  :    one  moved  in  the  dark. 

We  dream'd  we  could  mould  our  being  to  stone  : 
Our   heart   became    cold ;    and   our    mien    became 

one. 

God  made  us  for  life :    a  statue  we  stood  : 
The  surface  was  smooth  ;    and  the  world  called  us 

good. 


A   POEM.  189 

Oh    Marble !    what   meaneth  ?      These   limbs,   they 

convulse ! 

This  heart  beateth  strong !  warm  floweth  the  pulse ! 
The  dull  ears,  they  listen  !  The  glaring  eyes  see  !  — 
Oh  Love  !  so  much  life,  life  givest  thou  me ! 


XLI. 

High,  holy  Forgiveness,  at  threshold  of  bliss 
From  God  in  the  next  world,  from  mortal  in  this  ! 
One  touch  of  thy  wand,  foes,  girt  to  molest, 
Drop  kneeling,  to  rise  up,  knights  of  the  blest. 
A  current  of  nature  that  will  can  resist 
Is  check'd,  to  swell  stronger,  the  longer  it's  miss'd ; 
Once  fulness  of  confidence  flow'd  but  in  part, 
With  faith  and  confession  now  floods  all  the  heart. 


XLII. 

Life  looks  on  a  face  whence  beameth  bright 
A  constant  halo  of  warm  delight, 

Whose  smiles  attract 

To  genial  act 
All  love  that  springs  in  the  sunny  sight. 

Her  mien,  with  every  grace  refined, 
In  welcoming,  bends  to  all  things  kind, 

With  something  true 

And  duteous  too, 
Not  lightly  sway'd,  in  the  inner  mind. 

She  moves  in  a  sphere  not  wholly  obscure. 
With  that  which  is  not  wholly  mature, 


190  LOVING: 

But  meek  to  go 
Where  friend  or  foe 
May  whisper  width  of  the  wise  or  pure. 

Her  aim  is  not  for  prize  of  a  strife, 
To  sit  by  a  plume,  but  if  as  a  wife, 
For  her  own  soul, 
Not  for  eyes  of  Earth's  whole, 
Content  with  gains  of  the  unseen  life. 

To  me  like  blue  that  is  over  the  sea 
Far  up,  yet  with  similarity, 

A  world  of  love 

She  bends  above, 
As  broad  as  life  is,  and  yet  how  free  ! 

Thence  life,  bestirr'd,  finds  fond  hopes  rise 
Like  mists,  more  beauteous  when  in  skies, 

And  like  nights  here 

When  stars  appear, 
E'en  gloom  grows  dear  that  awaits  those  eyes. 

Ay !   thence,  as  at  dawn  that  awakes  a  dream, 
Hope  dims,  forestall'd  by  truth  supreme 

That  flashes  light 

To  make  all  bright, 
And  be,  what  self  can  only  seem. 

Would  God  that  heaven  could  ever  abide, 
Not  undisturb'd  if  storms  outvied, 

But  steadfast  still 

To  the  clearer  will 
At  rest  deep  under  the  wave  and  tide  ! 


A   POEM.  191 


XLIII. 

Back !   back,  Presumption !  dare  not  view 
A  vision  that  can  but  pale  the  true. 
This  life  hath  plenty  of  wrong  for  woe  : 
It  need  not  add  one  other,  I  trow  : 
Nor  tempt  from  the  light  so  bright  a  soul. 
As  well  a  fiend  might  woo  control, 

And  drag  another  to  dwell 
In  its  Hell!  — 

Yet  oh!    a  fiend  too 

Might  aspire  for  the  true  ! 
And  if  that  other  were  sweet  as  this, 
All  fires  of  Hell  were  quench'd  by  a  kiss ! 

XLIV. 

In  the  spheres  of  God,  where  Love  controls, 
Shade  hies  to  the  surface  ;   Hell  to  far  poles  • 
Light  bides  in  the  center ;    Heaven  in  souls. 
'Tis  surface-life  deems  far  what's  near ; 
It  found  no  Heaven,  if  Heaven  were  here. 
This  world  that  weds  for  elf  or  pelf, 

Oh  it  knows  not 

What  souls  have  got 

That  live  like  God,  and,  loving,  love  self. 
This  world  that  wisely  looks  to  exalt 
Full  many  another,  less  spotted  of  fault, 

It  may  be  right, 

But  judges  by  sight, 
Our  own  is  sugar,  the  others'  are  salt ! 


192  LOVING: 

XLV. 

Hold,  soul !    if  a  freak 

But  sate  as  one  seek. 

God  shelter  the  dream. 

Where  depth  of  a  stream 

Were  hid  by  its  gleam, 

Agasp  on  the  banks, 

The  bliss  of  one's  thanks, 
The   eager    bound   of   one's'  leap   caused    the 

shock 
To  kill,  as  he  dived,  and  dash'd  on  a  rock ! 

XLVI. 

What  eye  can.  trace 

What  is  under  a  face  ? 

If  a  calm  demean 

Be  of  hope  serene, 

From  spirit  ascended,  through  faithfulness, 
To  dwell  in  a  region  above  distress ; 

Or  only  a  stare 

From  the  corpse  of  care, 
From  self  that  is  dead  but  to  selfishness  ? 
The  genialest  glance  —  Oh  trust  it  never !  — 
May  flare  from  a  passion  to  scorch  forever : 

No  glory  of  sky 

Where  a  dawn  is  nigh  ; 
But  flame  volcanic  that  ruins  the  rest, 

That  roars  beneath  and  the  heaven  affronts, 
Till  one  dream  of  imps  that  are  yelling  to  pest ! 
Or  wake  to  the  lulls  of  a  soulless  dunce  ! 


A   POEM.  193 

XLVII. 

What  seer  can  pry  what  cares  unfold, 

With  children  to  train, 

And  patience  to  strain, 

And  after  the  whim  much  worth  to  be  doled  ? 
Trust  not  to  feeling,  Imperfect  of  Birth, 
Fidelity  only  has  worth  on  the  earth. 

True  love's  the  ideal 
Of  Faith,  that  loves  most  to  kneel. 

XLVIII. 

Those  serpents  who  visit 
And  whisper  and  hiss  it, 
The  faithless  advice 
Of  the  first  Paradise, 
"  Rebellion  to  station 
Makes  Lords  of  Creation  "  — 
Oh,  who  bear  the  damaging 
Of  their  sly  managing?  — 
Ah,  how  many  lone  hearts  to  grieve  ! 
Vain  souls  that  roam 
From  duties  of  home, 

Ye  guides  unto  loving,  God's  last  forms  given 
At    the    gateways    of    Earth,    the    heralds    of 

Heaven, 
There's  risk  where  the  world's  rough  cares  are 

driven. 
With  feeling  all  ruler, 

The  reason  is  slave : 
With  feeling  no  ruler, 

The  female's  a  knave. 
13 


194  LOVING: 

This  white  of  the  ermine  may  prove,  forsooth, 
A  shroud  for  the  delicate  beauty  of  Truth ! 
Worth  lost  to  get  weakness  that  wins  with  a  lie, 
The  soul  shut  in  that  smothered  Love  die, 

Weigh  well  the  cheat 

Who  look  to  deceit: 

The  devil  's  our  rival,  ye  daughters  of  Eve  : 
WE  MAY  DIVIDE  ! 

FOR    THE    WAYS    ARE    WIDE  ! 
XLIX. 

Alas  Will's  boasted  freedom !    we  may ! 
And  have  but  woe  for  the  murmuring  sway! 
What  soul  can  hope  that  a  less  good  here 
Shall  thrive,  with  the  greatest  of  all  not  dear? 
The  first  deed  of  man  with  power  of  selection 
Broke  loose  from  lines 

Of  life,  all  perfection. 
His  earliest  cry :  "  Who  giveth  me  laws  ? 
Who  leadeth  by  signs  ? 

Who  telleth  no  cause  ? 
The  brave  hath  deserts : 
Let  the  tree  be  the  quest : 

There  is  that  in  the  food 
Much  more  than  a  test. 
The  will  that  asserts 
Its  right  of  command, 

And  calls  up  the  good 
And  the  evil,  shall  stand 
The  equal  of  God !     Have  I  not  desires  ? 
Hail  fullness  of  all  their  rest  requires !  " 


A   POEM.  195 

L. 

Alas  the  finite  who  aim'd  at  all  sight, 
The  equal  of  God  is  the  Infinite! 

And  praise  to  Creator 

In  wisdom  the  greater  ! 

E'en  out  of  a  fall 

Comes  the  saving  of  all ; 

Comes  knowledge  of  good,  as  well  as  of  bad  ; 
With  knowledge  of  evil  from  feeling  the  sad, 
The  knowledge  of  faith  which  alone  can  unite 
Our  limit  of  light  to  the  Infinite. 

LI. 

Unite !    can  that  be  an  end,  wrought  out 

E'en  through  divisions  that  make  Love  doubt  ?  — 

The  width  of  truths  men  sunder  to  own, 

Still  leading  there  toward  One  on  the  Throne  ? 

Life  reads  in  the  past  where  wish  went  wrong, 

Yes  !  —  even  of  Love  that  parted  the  strong, 

Thus  to  be  triumphant !  —  of  Love  that  was  able 

To  hinder  Earth's  error,  with  flood  and  with  Babel ; 

Of  Power,  preserving  the  pure  in  the  ark, 

The  Father  of  Faith  through  the  Patriarch, 

That  led  by  the  meek,  that  ruled  by  the  poet, 

Where  Life  moved  on,  tho'  no  one  might  know  it, 

Divided  by  Egypt,  Philistine,  and  Mede, 

That,  disciplined,  it  might  learn  to  succeed ! 

Moved  on  !    till  nigh  to  a  mystery  dim, 

Where  Thought  bow'd  awed  that  a  Maker  be, 
Love  crost  the  threshold  ;   and,  knowing  of  Him, 

Dared  e'en  to  dream  of  a  Trinity  !  — 


196  LOVING: 

No  heathen  gods  of  different  tale, 

But  heathen  truth  where  is  rent  the  veil, 

A  holy  Communion 

Of  Heavenly  Union, 
Of  Life  in  self,  and  of  Life  without, 
Of  Rest,  reposing  in  Rest  about, 
Of  Thought,  all  knowing  and  being  known, 
Perfect  of  Love  that  lives  not  alone, 
Of  Deeds,  whichever  their  source  may  be, 
All  one  by  an  Infinite  Sympathy  !  — 
One  Spirit  ruling  on  Throne  above, 
One  God,  but  all  of  the  Godhead,  Love ! 

LII. 

And  He  who  rules  —  One  God,  perchance, 
Has  plann'd  one  law  for  every  advance  ; 
If  floods  for  manhood,  baptisms  for  man, 

Aye  parting  where  sin  is,  and  joining  where  love, 
Each  shift  but  a  symbol  Faith  reads,  as  it  can, 

For  growth,  not  like  to  the  tree  forced,  above. 
For  him  so  ruled,  if  earth  be  a  school, 
May  be  the  life  disciplined  follows  the  rule  : 
Where  draw  the  curtains  of  pure  delight, 
The  corridors  stretch  toward  Infinite  sight  : 
Love  nears  through  chambers  of  revelation 
The  blissful  halls  of  the  world's  creation  : 
She  beckons  to  children  of  Earth,  her  own 
Who  wonder  and  wait,  what  Faith  hath  shown ; 
And  the  gates  flash  afar  from  the  Father's  Throne 
Wherever  one  gleam  of  the  good  before, 
Mayhap,  an  angel  opens  the  door! 
Wherever  true  love,  there's  faith  in  the  gloom, 


A   POEM.  197 

A  lamp  to  wait  for  the  World's  Bridegroom  ! 

A  lamp  to  wait, 

Tho'  the  hours  be  late 

And  clear  near  dawn  loom  the  forms  of  hate, 
For  the  Judgment  Day,  the  last  to  divide, 
Where  the  child  of  Heaven  is  the  fruit  of  the  Bride  ! 

OF    LOVE,    TO    UNITE  ! 

WlTH    THE    WAYS    ALL    BRIGHT  ! 

Lin. 

Hail,  Spirit  of  Union,  hail,  to  control ! 

The  Bible  and  Heaven 

These  symbols  have  given  :  — 
One  love  that  joins  here  body  and  soul, 
And  one  that  joins  all  Earth  to  the  Whole. 

Who  crieth,   "  Divide  "  ?  - 

Love  !   love  it  is  wide  ! 
Light  leads  Life  on !     The  haven  is  near ! 
Some  beacons  of  peace  are  glimmering  here ! 
What  tho'  there  be  peril,  let  Faith  be  devout; 
With  risk  near  Eden,  there's  ruin  without !  — 

Fy!     Here  is  Philosophy,  balancing  life, 
Like  the  knight  of  a  novel  —  gone  for  a  wife  I 


LA. 

NOW  came  the  poem  of  the  elder  scribe, 
The  village  sage,  well-nigh  the  village  saint. 
Wide  seem'd  his  views,  tho'  ne'er  a  voyager;  — 
For  one  may  see  this  life  and  stay  at  home : 
It  does  not  always  make  men  wise,  I  deem, 
That  they  have  napt  in  Nice,  or  roam'd  'round  Rome  : 
While  many  eyes  that  wander  earn  but  lies, 
There's  truth  in  fancy,  never  found  in  fact  — 
As  wide  too  was  renown'd  his  generous  worth. 
Tho'  gray  beards  could  recall  a  boistrous  youth, 
And  many  a  scrape  and  scare  from  daring  deeds, 
Who'd  now  point  out,  to  blame,  one  earlier  blot  ? 
In  the  completed  pictures  of  this  life 
Failings  may  give  fill'd  outlines  rare  relief, 
A  nature  weak,  in  that  it  was  more  weak, 
By  so  much  more  redound  to  praise  of  him 
Who  from  poor  talents  wrought  out  rich  results. 
So  when  the  genial  man  sat  at  his  hearth 
To  read  this  work,  his  wisdom  and  his  worth 
First  hush'd  the  throng,  and  then  his  clear,  full  voice, 
The  wholesome  utterance  of  a  well-kept  heart ! 
It  spell'd  like  chiming  of  the  old  church  bells, 
So  sweet  in  youth !   'spite  blow  and  frost,  still  sweet ! 


POEM   SIXTH. 


SERVING. 


HOW    sweetly    sounds,  on    barren    plain,    the 
rain 
That  wakes  the  slumbering  seed  that  springs  to 

hear! 

How  bright  are  steadfast  suns  that  gild  the  grain 

Ere  Autumn  crowns  with  gold  the  patient  Year ! 

But  crystal  tones,  from  infant  hearts  pure-welling, 

More  sweetly  rouse  the  soul's  unfolding  worth : 

And   smiles  from    her   whose  face    lights   up    the 

dwelling 

More  brightly  hallow  homes  for  fruit  of  Heaven  on 
Earth. 

ii. 

So  sweet  are  dawns  that  bring  domestic  bliss : 

So  bright,  the  long  day's  toil  that  such  instills  : 
Rare  rest  new  cares,  to  melt  before  a  kiss, 

As  slight  and  brief  as  snows  by  southern  rills. 
And  sky-lit,  vestal  fires  at  evening  glowing : 

All  blest  the  soul  to  whom  one  glance  allow'd  ! 
Too  curst  the  lone  one  never,  never  knowing 
That    inspiration    sent  from    realms    that   know    no 
cloud ! 


202  SERVING: 


What    tho'    earth's    fickle    months,    with    drought 

and  frost, 

Bring  most  disaster,  and  bring  all  distress; 
The  humblest  pair  can  look  past  harvests  lost, 

Still  patient  till  the  future  shall  redress. 
Those  youthful  forms  that  grow  with  careful  train 
ing 

Bloom  beautiful  by  buds  of  promised  store : 
And  if  this  season  blast  their  best  attaining, 
Oh !  has  not  early  prime  long  years  of  hope  before  ! 

IV. 

Thus  storms  that  stalk  where  man,  in  vain,  con 
tends, 

And  crush  half  ripen'd  grain  to  sudden  dross, 
Too  bitter  dross  for  all  more  dainty  friends, 

Lose  power  to  ruin,  and  half  power  to  cross. 
Let  false  away,  if  home's  true  hearts  bide  nearest, — 

Privations  come,  that  but  deprive  of  ease  ; 
No  loss  of  other  things  can  seem  severest ! 
Nor  any  effort  tire,  achieving  still  for  these ! 


That  one  immortal  power  which  ne'er  can  die, 
There    are    no    floods    on    earth    Love    cannot 

brave, 
Too  near  of  nature  to  the  upper  sky 

To  tamely  sink  beneath  a  worldly  wave. 
And    I've   known   those   with    all    things   her   ex 
pression, 


A   POEM.  203 

Their   wealth,   but   something   won   for   her    to 

own, 

Their  poverty,  new  claim  for  her  confession  :  — 
Ah  where   could  doubtful   Fate   bespeak  so   sure  a 
throne ! 

VI. 

A  man,  whose  life  had  toil'd  till  nigh  its  noon 
Through    mists   which    lined    each    ledge    with 

phantom  fears, 

Had  found  so  clear  a  path,  so  bright  a  boon. 
High   hung   the  hours  through  ten  full,  happy 

years  : 

And   wide  developt  joys  where    Love  was  wield 
ing. 
Two  young  hearts  came  :    and  with  them  double 

care  ; 

But  generous  Nature  yields  afresh  to  yielding : 
The   germs  that   grow   to  fill  feed   too   on   broader 
air. 

VII. 

A  man,  he  was  —  all  towns  reveal  the  kind,  — 
Earth  names  eccentric,  since  Earth  finds  them 

few; 
As  wise  Chinese,  with  common  whisper,  mind 

The  hang  of  heathen  heads,  bereaved  of  cue. 
Of  far  extremes  his  nature  seem'd  the  linking  : 

Of  strong  impulses,  will  outvying  all ; 
Of  reckless  fancy,  logical  of  thinking  ; 
Abstract  of  reason,  still  intensely  practical. 


204  SERVING: 


VIII. 

His  moods,  so  wide,  in  widest  fields  would  roam, 

Wherever  love  could  please,  or  good  exalt ; 
While  Ignorance  smiled  to  feel  herself  at  home, 
And  Wisdom  would  not  know  he  deal'd  a  fault. 
Determined  still,  he  turn'd  a  fickle  bearing, 

Right  sensitive,  to  truth  in  deed  or  whim  ; 
A  mirror,  just  and  full  to  each  comparing, 
Some  men  there  were,  to  read   through  what  they 
thought  of  him. 

IX. 

Nor  here  surmise  he  play'd  a  gossip's  part, 

Or,  for  a  new  friend,  sacrificed  an  old. 
When  one  pierced  aught  to  love,  one  pierced  his 

heart ; 

His  face  grew  rigid,  for  his  blood  grew  cold. 
But  honor  helps  us  not,  if  forms  have  revePd  : 
These    moods    diverse    were    doubted    and    re 
viled 

As  scheming,  whereat  honest  hate  was  level'd  ; 
As  aimless,  where   he'd  win,  with    slight  t'offend    a 
child. 

x. 

His  youth,  so  old,  it  sometimes  seem'd  pretence : 
His  age  was  blamed  for  immaturity. 

His  foes,  astonish 'd  by  his  confidence : 
His  friends  were  puzzled  by  his  mystery. 

With  self  diverse,  for  truth  to  self  ambitious, 


A   POEM.  205 

His  greatest  virtue  proved  his  greatest  fault : 
Ay,  men,  adepts  in  vice,  had  deem'd  him  vicious, 
Because,  where  Caution  call'd,  Conceit  might  fail  to 
halt. 

XI. 

Alas,  'mid  scenes  to  discipline  device, 

Who  live,  too  proud  to  ply  it  or  too  pure, 
Will  find,  at   last,  they've   roused,  from    lips  pre 
cise, 

Death-scented  chidings  of  the  doom'd  ill-doer 
Who  's  caught  that  pest  of  vice,  to  sap  emotion, 

Who  deems  a  sight  of  naked  heart  is  sin 
And  all  love  haunted  by  a  carnal  notion  — 
So  keeps  the  Christ-like  out,  to  keep  the  devil  in. 

XII. 

Besides,  broad  views,  alone,  have  their  offence : 
What  tho'  on  life's  long  voyage  loom  stars  and 

shoals  ?  — 

Both  theories  for  thought,  and  things  for  sense  ? 
One  law  guides  most  who  steer,  where'er  their 

goals : 
Who  pleads  of  each  to  all,  may  make  all  wiser, 

But  grows  no  pilot,  with,  his  fickle  rule ! 
Nay,  ere  he  know  it,  'spite  his  best  adviser, 
This  man  may  hear  an  insult,  and  that  man  a  fool  ! 

XIII. 

Love,  when  it  works  a  philosophic  mind, 

Not  long  accepts  all  lack  of   sympathy : 
To  seek  it  kindly,  failing  still  to  find, 


206  SERVING: 

Makes  honest  dullness  seem  hostility. 
This  man  had  heart  and  head  so  close  united, 
All    thought    was    passion,    and    all    passion 

thought : 

Emotion  ran  to  logic,  once  excited  ; 
And,  where  the  feelings  burn'd,  Imagination  wrought. 

XIV. 

It  wrought  his  woe :   and  this  his  reason  knew : 

He  knew  his  own  ideals  made  him  sad : 
His  soul  preferr'd  to  weep  and  urge  the  true, 
Than    laugh    and    speak    contentment    to    the 

bad. 
Where    did    such    Romance    pace    the    stage    of 

action, 

One  glance  from  ample  perfectness  to  doff? 
The  part  all  spurn'd,  she  shunn'd  by  not  a  frac 
tion, 

And  then,  the  pit,  which  came  for  pleasure,  staid  to 
scoff. 

xv. 

That  modest  plant,  the  schools  call  sensitive, 
Lacks    beauty    not   when    Nature's    means    are 

sent : 
Its  tendrils  clasp  a  harsher  guise  to  give, 

To  greet  alone  some  hostile  element. 
So  oft  a  shrinking  mien  assumes  a  boldness 

That  masks  true  life  beneath  a  shield  for  pain  : 
But  when  has  pass'd   the  shade  that  caused   the 

coldness 

Lo  !    those    who    watch   it    well    find    beauty   there 
again  ! 


A   POEM.  207 

XVI. 
Thus  did  the  world's  hostility,  in  end, 

See  him  withdraw  ;   nor  cared  he  then  to  live. 
But  Life  that  overrules,  it  rules  to  blend. 

Who  shrink  aback  meet  there   the  sensitive. 
Where  honor  's  scarce  and   each  man  craves  his 

brother's, 

With  such  alone  are  welcome  those  who  feel : 
We  men  are  selfish  ;    and  work  not  for  others  : 
Who've   sought   it  for   themselves,   have    charity   to 
deal. 

XVII. 

Away  with  shallow  precept  that  extols 

Experience  spliced  by  wedding  supplements  : 
No  hearts   are   join'd,   save  when,  tho'   wide   the 

poles, 

Life's  center  's  one,  for  each  circumference  ! 
Away  with  myths,  nor  quote  that  silly  story 

Of  gifts  diverse  which  heirs  of  jarr'd  tastes  hold  : 
For  men,  much  more  than  man,  allure  from  glory : 
Much  in  the    stuff,  there's  much   more  in  an  even 
mould. 

XVIII. 

He    learn'd    this    truth :    that   earthly    Love    can 

wend 

Two  ways  alone  in  which  'tis  ne'er  beguil'd  — 
Moved   forward,  pace    to    pace    with    like  train'd 

friend : 

Moved  backward,  meeting  there  each  untrain'd 
child. 


208  SERVING: 

And    when    a  home  had   brought   both    these  to 
gether, 

What  rare  reward  it  was  for  all  his  care! 
It  came  like  summer  after  wintry  weather : 
Love  touch'd  the  heart,  long   dead,  for  resurrection 
there. 

XIX. 

But  now,  in  life  too  bright  without  a  cloud, 
Had  the  glazed    face  of  Sickness    dodged    his 

path; 
And  seized  his   pulse,  first   roused  to  'scape  the 

shroud, 

Then  chilPd,  by   icy  touch,  to    numbness  rath. 
Friends  came ;  and  urged,  all  other  aims  displac 
ing* 

To  court  the  favors  of  a  foreign  shore ;  — 
Assured    that    those   far    climes,    through    winds 

more  bracing, 

Could    kindle,    once    again,    the    healthful  heat    of 
yore. 

xx. 

Both   heart  and   mind    demurr'd  :  he  deem'd   his 

part, 

At  home,  a  priest  of  love  which  lives  in  form, 
True  form  t'uphold  by  aught  in  him  of  art 

Born  in  the  sunshine  or  matured  in  storm. 
Again,  he  thought :  "  I'll,  speak,  from  distant  na 
tions, 

A  broader  chanty  from  broader  glance  ; 
We  earthly  heralds  cannot  choose  relations, 
But,  riding  on  to  good,  must  bridle  circumstance." 


A   POEM.  209 

XXI. 
Then  pass'd  the  parting,  with  its  vague  regret, 

And  dreamlike  deeds,  and  doubtfulness  of  fact, 
The    wharf  —  his    wife  —  his    son  —  his    infant 

pet  — 
The     long    blue    hills,    slow-failing    him    who 

track'd  ; 

And  dizzy  days  ;  and  nights  of  phantom-fighting  ; 
And   crowded   meals   which   clogg'd   an    appe 
tite ; 

And  that  round  waste,  without    one  sail  exciting 
Monotony  too  dumb  for  sentiment  or  sight. 

XXII. 

Yet    wrong    I     thee!    oh    wide     and    wondrous 

Strand ! 

And   those    swift   wheels    which   o'er  thy   sur 
face  flee. 
I  wrong  those  skies  which  bend  on  either  hand, 

Lost  in  the  compass  of  Immensity ! 
I     wrong    that    mighty    heart    whose    ceaseless 

grieving 

Wakes  wild  devotion  of  the  sailor's  lays ! 
That   bosom    where    Omnipotence    is    breathing ! 
And,  whisper'd  from   far   isles,  the   heathen's    awe 
struck  praise! 

XXIII. 

Tremendous  Monarch  of  all  Elements, 

Whose  broad   arms   clasp   the    Heavens,   their 
only  peer ! 
14 


210  SERVING: 

What  age  of  wrong,  what  wail  of  Turbulence 
First     hail'd     thee    tyrant    of    our     trembling 

sphere  ? 
Who   bade   those  Winds  upspring,    to   rouse   thy 

laughter  ? 
Those    Lightnings   sport,  to    cheer   thy   fretful 

reign  ? 

That  fierce  applause  to  hurry  thundering  after? 
Those    Waves    to   howl    and   mock   above    uncon 
scious  slain  ? 

XXIV. 

Say  Power  of  dread,  is  it  thy  rage,  or  joy, 

Which  hurls  confusion  o'er  the  Pilot's  tract, 
And   tosses   man's   proud  work,  so   slight  a   toy, 

And  swamps  in  spray  for  each  resistive  act? 
Oh   God!    protect    the    soul,    those    dark    mists 

under, 
Where   naught   can    pierce  the   veil  of  instant 

doom, 

Till  hidden  rock  or  ice,  with  madden'd  wonder, 
Roar   at   the   rising  foam,    its   ghost-track  !  and   its 
tomb ! 

XXV. 

No  human    skill  saves  there  !     Men  work !   Men 

weep  ! 
Why   shouldst    thou    heed,    thou    Omnipresent 

Sea? 
Those  stormful  Clouds,  whose  blasts  about  them 

sweep, 
Owe  substance,  breath,  existence,  all   to  thee ! 


A   POEM.  211 

They  gain   their  grandeur,  when   thy  waves   are 

hoary  ; 
And    when,  worn    out,    their    wayward    might 

would  rest, 
Rest   shall    not    come,  till   thou,  with   pardoning 


Shalt  gather  all  again  on  thy  resentless  breast  ! 

XXVI. 

Nor,  when  those  skies  and   shores  the   brightest 

shine, 

Can  they  outrival  thee  !   oh,  Lordly  Deep  ! 
Within,  and  yet  not   of,  that  life  of  thine, 

Behold  !  more   beauteous,  all  in   image   sleep  ! 
Ay,    Peace,    more    grandly   than   when    strife    is 

raging 

To  vex  a  banishment  from  wrath  sublime, 
Crowns  thee  victorious,  every  strength  containing, 
Thou  God  in  miniature  !     Eternity  in  Time  ! 

XXVII. 

Vain    thoughts    like    these  !     vain    aught    which 

spake  content  ! 

Time  slowly  crawl'd  along  that  endless  floor, 
Until,  one  sunny  morn,  the  low  lines  bent 

On  purple   downs  of  Ireland's  fertile   shore  — 
That  Paradise,  beyond  the  ocean  dreary 

Where    Neptune    sways    his    lonely    dome    of 

gray: 

Where  hung  a  dream,  about   the  eyelids  weary, 
More    lovely    than    the    hills  which  circle    Queens- 
town  Bay? 


212  SERVING: 

XXVIII. 
Or  where  could  fairy  tilt  more  eager  arm 

Than    Spenser    spied   on   those   fair  banks   of 

Lee? 

Or  how  could  Beauty  spare  one  other  charm 
Where  blithe  Kate  Kearney   sail'd  her  bonny 

sea? 
Isle  of  delight,  and  were  those  gifts  expended 

Of  Nature,  ere  she  reach'd  the  manhood  here  ? 
Or  was  this  human  filth  and  misery  blended 
Lest    envy   make    more   jilted,    each   more  jealous 
sphere  ? 

XXIX. 

Oh  Ireland,  Ireland,  thou'rt  no  name  divine, 

Until  those  earth-bound  peasantry  are  free ; 
Till    Heaven    itself  shall    break   those  bonds   of 

thine 

And  give  thee  learning !  love !  and  liberty ! 
Still  trim  the  lamps,  tho'  voice  of  hoping  falters, 
The  dawn  shall  come,  with  all  that  light  insures, 
Which  long  in  lands,  beside  less  favor'd  altars, 
Has    nurtured    Christian   growth    from   hearts    less 
warm  than  yours  ! 

XXX. 

Past  leaden  Dublin,  and  her  golden  bay, 
The  traveler  mused  on  lowly  banks  of  Ern, 

And,  when  the  Sabbath  came,  he  paused  to  pray 
Where  Walker's  breath  bade  palest  ashes  burn. 

Then  'mid   the   hights   that  watch'd   the   Giant's 
ardor, 


A  POEM.  213 

He  traced  void  walls  of  coliseums  grand  j 
And  heard,  o'er  sinking  ships  of  Spain's  armada, 
His  wave-swept  organ  roar  an  Irish  reprimand ! 

XXXI. 

But  who,  that  sought  historic   mounts  and  lakes, 
'Trail'd  not  fair  Scotia's   image  o'er   the  wave 
Toward   moles  and   meads   where   scarce  a   sun 
beam  breaks 
But    bounds    the    ground   to   star    a    patriot's 

grave. 

Rare  realm  of  highest  deeds  !  and  deepest  think 
ing ! 

Honor's  delight !   and  Reason's  jubilee  ! 
Where  thrives  a  purer  life,  pure  'spite  the  drink 
ing? 

Or  where  does  Virtue  yearn,  it  does  not  yearn  for 
thee? 

XXXII. 

For  thee  !  and  praises  evermore  a  fame 

Where  even  Vice   precedence  gives  to  Worth  : 
Tho'    northern    clime    may    somewhat    chill    the 

flame, 
Where    Christian    zeal    illumes    the    lingering 

Earth. 

For  this  'twould   fain   forgive   false   virtue's   sur 
face — 

Awed  by  advance  of  hallow'd    Sabbath  noons, 
Ye   beggars,   plead   no   tones    but   Sunday's  ser 
vice  ! 
Ye  organ-monkeys  dance  no   irreligious  tunes ! 


214  SERVING: 

XXXIII. 

Who,  here,  essay  to  note  a  stranger's  thought  ?  — 
What  springs  to  crowd  each  path,  where'er  he 

turns  ? 

While  every  course  with  impulse  fresh  is  fraught, 
Now  hale    for   Wallace!    and    now   hush'd  for 

Burns  ! 
He    delved    through   Bannockburn  :   he  mounted 

Stirling, 

Full  half  to  Heaven  by  the  view  it  brought ! 
Then,  all  alone,  'mid   cliff-wall'd  Trosachs  whirl 
ing, 

Was  first  the  stag  that  shunn'd,  and  then  the  James 
who  sought. 

XXXIV. 

Nor  did  he  slight  those  tones  of  tender  tale, 
Which    murmur    where    the    rills    of    Yarrow 

gleam  ; 
Nor  dared  one  Echo  rude  alarm  the  vale, 

Disturbing  haunt  of  Romance  and  of  Dream. 
Yet  not  a  limb,  nor  leaf,  above   it  leaning, 

Nor  by  its  side  reclined  one  sheltering  rock 
But  found  a  voice  with  deep  poetic  meaning, 
From  Newark's  birchen  bowers  to  bare  St.  Mary's 
Loch. 

XXXV. 

Then    Cumberland   allured,  where   wilds  on  high 
Most    cultured    fruit    of   earth    and    mind    an 
nounce  ; 


A   POEM.  215 

And  bright,  susceptive  Lakes,  admiring,  vie 

To  swell  the  charms  of  else  unrival'd  Mounts. 
And   sudden    brooks   whose    mists    are   myths  of 

story 
Dash   down    each   ledge !    and   dodge   through 

every  brake ! 
From  peaks,  like    broken    fragments   flung    from 

glory, 

Which    trail    a    train  of   clouds,  too    like    them    to 
forsake ! 

xxxvi. 

And    then  —  vain    strove    contracted    lines    of 

rhyme, 

Describing  free  orb'd  luxury  of  mind 
Our  England  stirs  in  souls,  of  every  clime, 

Who  honor  aught  that  elevates  mankind  ; 
Where  grand  Cathedrals  live  !  with  praises  breath 
ing 
Through  limbs   that  yield  all  graceful  wish  to 

thought ! 

Where  classic  castles  live  !  with  ivy  wreathing  — 
Gardens  of  freshest  art  about  the  ruin  sought ! 

XXXVII. 

Vain,  too,    should  Memory  seek,  through   words, 

surcease, 

Depicting  welcome  from  an  English  home, 
Where  no  crude  Care  intrudes  on  cultured  Ease, 

And  Service  struggles  to  exalt  her  own. 
God  bless   thee   long,  thou   proud,   but   Mother- 
Nation  ! 


216  SERVING: 

Most  motherly  in  pride,  thy  sons  renew ! 
God  bless  that  loyal  life  to  each  relation, 
Bred   with   the   British    blood,  from   lord  to   tenant 
through  ! 

XXXVIII. 

Thy  western   child,  it  grows   with   noblest  boast 

The  freedom,  first  imbibed  upon  thy  knee, 
The  Anglo-Saxon  virtue  of  thy  coast, 

Long  stay  of  Christian  life  and  charity. 
And  while  advancing  power  fulfills  its  mission, 
Best  culturing   all    where   English   words  have 

scope, 

Accurst  the  land,  accurst  the  politician, 
Would   lift  one   country's   flag  to   lower   the  whole 
world's  hope  ! 

xxxix. 

Still    slept    the    snappish    gales    that  fright   her 

waves, 
The    while    the    traveler    sought    the     Belgic 

shore, 
And    spires,    full-chiming    hours    each    neighbor 

craves  — 

To  shun   surprise  ?  —  a   long  half  hour  before. 
Well  wrought  her  fields  ;   well  her  great  limner's 

beauty, 
Tho'    skeptics    miss    that    central    charm,    the 

heart,  — 

A  wise  man's  pleasure  and  a  weak  man's  duty,  — 
The   good  which   fickle  Nature  yields   to   constant 
Art. 


A    POEM.  217 

XL. 

Art  too  he  found,  a  cautious,  candid  school, 
As    nicely   trimm'd    as    dikes    that  guard   her 

homes, 
Where    crouching     Holland     grasps    her    watery 

tool, 
And  tempts  to  tread-mill  each  fresh  Wind  that 

roams. 
So  thrift  a  race,  what  have  they  ever  slighted  ? 

In  Kirk,  behold !   what  restful  industry ! 
When  crowded  aisle  and  organ,  loud  united, 
Praise  Him  who  stretch'd  their  plains,  through  long 
monotony ! 

XLT. 

Not  martial  pomp,  nor  splendid  choir,  we  ask, 
Whose  end  is  homage  vain  to  human  skill ; 
No  glory  to  the  praise  of  labor'd  task  ; 

But  what,  for   Nature's   mood,  speaks  out   the 

will:  — 
Where  sense  is  strong,  strong  music  through  the 

senses 
From   souls   that   love,   because   they  live   the 

strain, 

Now  slow  from  doubt,  or   mourning  for  offenses, 
Anon    borne    upward    wing'd    to    hope    beyond    all 
pain. 

XLII. 

So  grand   to   hear,  where    God   has   school'd   by 
strife, 


218  SERVING: 

All  powerful  chorals  from  the  wills  all  strong. 
Mild   moods   come  too.     Our   wanderer   came  to 

life 

Surrounded  aye  by  memories  of  song 
With    Heaven-like    charm   to    soothe    the    child, 

e'en  weaning, 

Whose  clappers  call  a  roll  of  classic  airs.  — 
Ah,  sweetness  sates   all  earth,  when   only  glean 
ing 
What  Germany,  replete  with  growing  bounty,  spares  ! 

xi.m. 

Nor  mourn  that  bounty,  ye  who'd  point  to  time 
Seduced  from  good  by  Sunday's  beer  and  ball : 
Or  mourn  each  fruit  of  Eden's  matchless  prime 

For  one  that  rival'd  Adam,  God  and  all. 
Blest  land,  indeed,  where  Conscience   bides  with 

Learning, 

Considerate  still  to  guard  each  hour  of  rest 
For   man,  while  man  goes  wrong  and  needs,  for 

turning, 

Calm   hours  for  view  of  things    Earth's    cares  can 
not  suggest  : 

XLIV. 

But  well  before  one  blame  to  bear  self-blame  : 
Where    Force   of   good    would   hold  a  stricter 

rein, 

Force  may  need  such  from  greater  need  to  tame 
More  blunt   and  blurting  vice  of   wilder  brain. 
Where    spray   is    white,   waves   too    are    fiercely 
rolling : 


A  POEM.  219 

Where  Good  alert,  111  too,  with  many  a  shoal : 
Judge  not  by  storm-mood  of  the  mien  controlling 
The  life    far   less   disturb'd   where  moves  a   milder 
soul. 

XLV. 

Or  judge  and  be  judged  !     They've  sketch'd  :  — 

"  Play-house,  bar, 

Most   numerous,  crowded,  vile  and   villainous  ; 
Best  stock'd  from  life  where   somehow  train'd  to 

jar, 
Vain  girls    are  rear'd  like    queens,  to  reign  by 

fuss  ; 

Whence,  void  of  household  joy,  man,  sot  or  ser 
vant, 
From    morn    to   midnight   kept   from    culture's 

part, 
Must  store,  oft   steal  more   gold,  that  Lies  more 

fervent 

Greet    surface-prink   that  gilds   a  home   without   a 
heart." 

XLVT. 

No  life  seems  wholly  faultless :  where  not  so, 
Let  states  like  souls  complete  all  lack  through 

love. 

Thus  may  they  lure  to  Right  the  Wrong  below  j 

Thus,  humbly,  heed  the  truth,  if  Worth  above. 

That   land   has   kings    on   earth :  —  this   honors, 

needing, 
Still  Sabbaths  to  remind  of  King  above. 


220  SERVING: 

Armies  has  that :  —  with  this  much  woe  is  breed 
ing 

Where  Free  Will  rules,  if  Will  have   never  learn'd 
of  love. 

XLVII. 

Where'er  Republic,  thence  demands  the  Earth 

More  good  to  stay  a  wiser  life ,  in  store  ; 
For  if  the  New  World  be  not  new  in  worth, 
The    tyrant    tracks    the    circle    round    once 

more.  — 
Teach    Church,    of   reverent    speech    where    no 

crown  trains  it! 

Teach  Sunday-school,  of  love  'mid  party  strife ! 
Lest  Tyrant- Will,  untaught  what  best  restrains  it, 
Revolt  from  public  peace,  or  huff  the  social  life. 

XLVIII. 

Yet,  guarding  self  s,  frown  not,  if  Justice  find 
All    German     moods,    like    music,    aim'd    for 

heart ! 
From  France  some  come  back  Frenchy  ;  but  each 

mind, 
More    pure    of  mother-tongue,    more    selfs   of 

art, 

Comes  from  this    Sister-Saxon,  soul-deep  nation! 
Ah,  if   we  blame,  we'll    blame,    from    loving 

homes 

That  wait  with  anxious  mien  —  like  revelation, 
Words   from    an    oracle!  —  what  speak  her    mighty 
Tomes  ! 


A   POEM.  221 

XLIX. 

In  all  she  lack,  oh  may  her  new,  proud  day 

Disclose  what  facts  reveal   to  heedful   thought, 
For  ends  not  king-made  but  what  men  essay, 
For  practice,  more  than  hope,  long  crush'd,  has 

wrought ; 

Call    impious,  Science   back,  to    know    her    sta 
tion  ! 

Give  sway  to  Faith !  —  for  there  was  day,  I  read, 
When    not    content  with  whims  to  guide  the  na 
tion, 

From    love    of  perfect   truth,  these   led   to   perfect 
deed! 


Across    the   plains   where   press'd   the  Goth  and 

Hun, 

In  centuries  of  progress  left  in  rear, 
The  pilgrim  now  was  brought  with  monk  and  nun, 
To    worship  art,  —  and   was  art  only  dear  ?  — 
Nay,    even     then,    sweet     child-like    words     had 

mutter'd, 

'Spite    leading-strings    held    tight     by    dotard- 
hand, 

One  manly  truth,  'mid  espionage,  still  utter'd  :  — 
By  dower  of  soul    and   hand,  the    right  to   speech 
and  land. 

LI. 

Who   made    the   world,  He   made    the  world  for 
man 


222  SERVING: 

Where   waits   he    Heaven,   with   love    his  only 

light : 
Its  heirs,  they  cannot  bow  to  caste  or  clan, 

Be  led  by  aught  that  does  not  lead  to  right. 
With  such  denied,  farewell  to  king  of  nation  : 
The  patriot's  home  is  where  his  duties  be  ! 
For  priest  or  prince,  love  only  is  salvation  ! 
No  rule  of  heart  by  hearts  without  humanity ! 

LIT. 

Away  with  artifice  in  Church  or  State, 

Each  false  result  of  aristocracy 
With  good,  the  say  of  prelate  not  of  mate, 

With  bad,  an  accident  or  poverty  j 
Religion,  where  the  gowning  gives  the  rating, 

Not  reverence  instinct  for  life  of  truth ; 
Morals,  where  hopeless  virtue  yields  for  sating 
The  void  desires  of  undomestic  soldier-youth. 

LIII. 

And     Hope    could    prophesy !    but    spies,    far 

north, 

Foe  to  free  work  or  worship  in  her  son, 
Another  cloud !   looms  it,  another  Goth 

To   out-Rome    Rome?    to    crush    all    love   has 

won  ?  — 
Hail  Russia,  free !  but  keep  despotic   code,  ah ! 

Hail  Europe  join'd,  indignant  then,  to  fell ! 
And  we  —  better  the  smallest  rock  in  Rhoda 
Than  all  the  western  world,  if  won  through  league 
with  Hell! 


A  POEM.  223 

LIV. 
But  thou,  proud  Latin  leader,  Valor's  own, 

Lover  —  roue  of  Freedom,  France,  stand  true  ! 
Who  has  not  bow'd,  bedazzled  at  thy  throne  ?  — 

Who  has  not  fear'd  to  hear  the  Syren  too  ? 
Top-wave  of  fickle-flooding  civilization, 

Thy  white  crests  signal   winds   that   work    the 

sea: 

Politics,  fashion,  vice,  war,  desolation, 
Whate'er,    where'er    the    source,    each     speeds    to 
shape  with  thee. 

LV. 

And  some  forms  aid  earth  much  !  —  Would  each 

crude  home 
Grew    fill'd    with    courtesy,    the     Frenchman's 

pride : 

Would  ours  so  fill'd,  that  get,  o'er   ocean  foam, 
But    modes    and    words   by   apes    and    parrots 

tried  ; 

While  little  Soul   veils  thy  soul's  true    confession 
O'er  foreign  traits,  to  make  deceit  seem  right ; 
And  little  Learning,  needing  long  expression, 
Slights  mood- nerved  English  point,  of  poem-pictur 
ing  might. 

LVI. 

Forgive  one,  France,  if  aught  of  Fashion's  tale 
Wake  prejudice  against  thy  life  unknown. 

More  moods  hast  thou  than  strumpet-signals  trail  ; 
More    thought   than  words    thrust,  thoughtless, 
'mid  our  own. 


224  SERVING: 

True  life  hast  thou:  speak  for  that  life  addition! 
Shrewd   strife   to  shape  needs  most  a  soul-just 

throne, 

Lest  logic  light  like  lightning !  —  smite  its  mission  ! 
And   love  with   thee  seem   brightest,  since   it  flare 
alone ! 

LVII. 

Thus  mused,  and  wrote  the   traveler,  moving  on, 
Words   tired   to  trace   through  what  extent  of 

scene. 

He  mark'd,  far  south,  so  beautiful  !   so  wan ! 
Fair    Spain,  nor    then  forgot   what    Spain    had 

been. 
He    heard    white    Alps    preach    pearly  truths   of 

Heaven  : 

Watch'd  dizzy  cliffs  of  sober  vineyard-glee : 
If  wisdom  came,  less   weight,  perchance,  whence 

given,  — 
Thought's  no  aristocrat  to  need  a  pedigree  ! 

LVIII. 

Yet  well  to  know,  where'er  his  feet  may  roam, 

America,  each  son  still  honors  thee, 
Where  Sect  and  Sex  have  found  an  equal  home, 

And  Worth  ranks  first  amid  nobility; 
Where     swell    the    aims    of    Freedom's    humble 

mothers 
While  young  minds  move  toward  all  that  minds 

deserve  ; 
Where    pure    the    life    while    Hope,    no    despot 

smothers, 
Asks   but    one    pride  of  birth,   and   God   alone    to 


A   POEM.  225 

LIX. 
Long,  long  may  tongues  diverse    and  ocean-foam 

Divide  the  new  from  modes  beyond  the  sea. 
Enough   Lies    lured    where   Truth    first    form'd  a 

home 

Already  threaten  that  which  made  it  free. 
Where  Nature  reigns,  let  nature  seem  perfection, 

For  truth  in  bearing,  and  for  love  in  heart ! 
For  Learning's  self  a  new  world  !    resurrection  ! 
And  Heavenlier  guise  for  soul  of  this  earth's  wasted 
Art! 

LX. 

The  wanderer's  kin  were  far,  —  and  Heaven  too  ! 

And  oft  came  letters  from  the  zealous  home, 
Where  Fact  and  Fancy  strove,  like  marriage  true, 

Reflecting  bliss,  to  double  every  tome. 
Right    regular    they    came,   till    something    lured 

him 

Far  Asiatic  wildness  to  explore, 
WThere  mails  came  not ;   but  ready  Hope  assured 

him 

More    numerous   joys    would    wait    more    numerous 
joys  in  store. 

LXI. 

Poor  vapory  life !   the  Hope  died  but  a  Hope. 
The    long   months    pass'd,  his    eager  eyes    de 
mand 

His  letters.     'Mazed  they  fill  so  slight  a  scope 
He  opens,  reads  —  but  scarce  to  understand  — 
15 


226  SERVING: 

Swift    tale    of    stout    disease! — how    all    things 

languish !  — 
His  two  fond  children  —  sicken'd  ?  —  dying  ?  — 

dead !  — 
Then    words    but    blots,    steept    in    a    mother's 

anguish  ; 

And    then,  no    more   for    months!  —  and  God    still 
overhead  ! 

LXII. 

But  last,  was  note  from  one,  a  friend  of  old ; 

On  friendship  old  it  dwelt  —  weak  artifice  — 
Then   urged    return  :  "  the  cause,  time  would  un 
fold  "  — 

Return  ?  return  ?  —  and  needed  he  advice  ? 
He  did  return  !  —  And  Night !  thy  self  sank  fouling 
'Neath  mightier  darkness  there,  from  shore  to 

shore ! 

And  Sea !  —  in  vain  obtruded  splash  and  howling  ! 
Woe  kept  him  back  from  home,  alas  a  home  no  more. 

LXIII. 

At    length    the   waves    were   cross'd :   he  reach'd 

the  land. 

But  oh  !   how  different  each  object  here, 
Than  when,  a  year  before,  that  little  band 

Waved  brave  farewells  upon  the  fading  pier. 
No  face  was  nigh  to  speak  a  kindly  greeting : 
He    sought    his   home  —  all   vacant,    cold    and 

still  : 

Wildly  the  door  re-echo'd  to  his  beating: 
He  seem'd   a  wicked  thing :   and   slunk   back  from 
the  sill. 


A   POEM.  227 


LXIV. 

His  house,  it  stood  beside  those  lordly  Banks 

That  rise  to  greet  the  Hudson's  silvery  train, 
While  Art,  admiring,  aids,  with  generous  thanks, 
To   wreathe   still  prouder  charms  for   hill  and 

plain. 
Below  him  swept  that  rare  and  royal  river! 

So  white   with   sails !   so   restful   and   so  wide ! 
First  of  creation,  foremost  to  deliver 
To  human  Skill    the   power  which  thwarts  the  sky- 
born  Tide ! 

LXV. 

It  chanced,  there  was  a  spot  where  oft  of  yore, 
'Neath    one    broad    elm    far  traced   that  region 

through, 
He  loved  to  linger,  with  his  babes  before, 

And  muse  on  life  and  all  the  work  to  do. 
Thither    his    footsteps    turn'd  —  Too    short    the 

story : 
Behold    that   place    of  joy!  —  The   same   tree 

waves 

Above  two  little  mounds  where  frost  lies  hoary, 
And  him,  a  lonely  man  who  weeps  at  silent  graves  ! 

LXVI. 

And  there,  in  helpless  misery  did  he  stay, 
Till  twilight  came  ;  till  midnight,  chill  and  dim; 

And  Anguish  burst  its  aching  bounds  to  pray  — 
The  only  thing  which  life  had  left  for  him ! 

Ay,  ay,  the  only  reservoir  for  sorrow: 
The  only  outlet  for  too  deep  despair : 


.22-8  SERVING: 

The  only  place  where  hope  can  find  a  morrow  :  — 
'Oh  Father  God !  oh   Christ !  oh  Spirit,  everywhere ! 

LXVII. 

And  was  he  answer'd  ?  —  He  remember'd,  now, 
That  friend  ;    and   what  was    promised    to   un 
fold:— 

"  Where    was    his    wife  ? "  —  he  ask'd   with   pain- 
braced  brow. 
The     tale    seem'd     strange,    but    very    kindly 

told  :  — 
*"  A  man  had  come,  nigh  proved  in  near  relation 

With  party  foes  of  his,  a  well  known  knave, 
Winning  her  confidence  through  much  persuasion, 
Then  luring  on  a  speculation  wild  to  brave. 

LXVIII. 

"  Soon,  swiftly  losing  all  her  husband's  gain 

That  had  been  left  with  her,  she  went  her  way, 

Searching  something  to  save,  —  a  search  in  vain  : 

While  gone,  her  children  died  ;  return'd,  friends 

say 
,She  first   seem'd  wild,  and   then   had  somewhere 

wander'd."  — 
Such  was  the  tale  :    it  roused  one  thought  :  — 

he  must 
For    her    seek    all    the    earth,  nor   deem    aught 

squander'd 
While,  all  omnipotent,  Faith  left  one  hope  to  trust. 

LXIX. 

So,  on  the  shifting  stage  of  life  appears 

A  man,  still  wedded,  but  to  what  is  sought, 


A   POEM.  229 

Still  young,  if  one  must  reckon  life  by  years, 
But   old   through  care  which   speeds   the   pace 

of  thought. 

Now   scans   he   city   crowds,   beside  him   throng 
ing ; 

Now  heeds  the  curious  gaze,  from  village  door ; 
Now  dread  asylum  haunts,  with  fearful  longing  ; 
Now   hunts   for  cautious    phrase,   to    advertise    the 
lore. 

LXX. 

Some  whom  he  met,  with  words  regardful,  spoke : 
"  Yes,  here    or    there  was   one,  perchance   the 

same." 

Twas  very  kind  to  cheer  the  strength  of  Hope  ; 
But  ah !  they  never  helpt  him  toward  his  aim. 
But  he  —  no  hill  so  high,  it  found  him  tiring; 

No  plain  so  long,  the  end  did  not  seem  nigh. 
While  glimpsed  a  single  ray  to  his  Inquiring, 
The   further   sank   the   light,  the   further   would  he 
ply. 

LXXI. 

From    east,  far    west   he   went ;   from    north,    far 

south, 

Led  there,  at  last,  he  scarcely  cared  for  what : 
A  change  was   good :    and   word,  from   stranger's 

mouth, 

Might  fill  the  ebbing  of  a  pang  forgot. 
What    courteous    homes    he    met,    his    mood    to 

lighten ! 
What  patriarchal  pride  of  noble  clan ! 


230  SERVING: 

But    truth    dawns    on    truth ;    older    right    must 

righten : 

These    too,  they  lack'd   one   virtue,  to  make  virtue 
man. 

LXXII. 

Few  can  they  love  who  still  love  manhood  best : 

He  left  for  fields,  fresh  boons  of  Paradise, 
That,  slumbering  by  the  Mississippi,  rest 

With  verdure  spurning  culture  of  device. 
He  left,  to  be  alone,  - —  no  wold,  no  forest, 
Disturbing  one  long  language  of  repose, 
With  sateless  Beauty's  self  content  as  florist, 
And    only  skies  where  weird  mirage  and  mountain 
grows. 

LXXIII. 

Then  —  in  the  east  there  lie  sky-drifted  mounts  : 
Their  cloud-coursed   paths   through  fresh-found 

mystery, 
Dim,  dreamy  glens,  and  flash'd  surprise  of  founts 

Had  train'd,  in  youth,  his  poet-fantasy. 
He  loved  them,  as  a  child  may  love  his  mother, 

A  simple  child  who  cannot  tell  you  why, 
Yet  something  feels,  he  feels  not  for  another, 
Something  too  near  to  life,  to  need  philosophy. 

LXXIV. 

Thither,    from    search    too    vain,    his    wanderings 

stray; 

And  there,  in  lengthen'd  weariness,  abide  ; 
While   Strength,  which  stagger'd  first,  accepts  its 

lay; 


A   POEM.  231 

And  Zeal  plods  on,  tho'  Zest  has  stept  aside. 
The  chains  our  life-experience  is  wearing 

Goad  on  to  effort,  and,  through  effort,  save. 
And  now,  if  aught  unusual  mark'd  his  bearing, 
A  lack  of  it  was  rest  which  none  but  victors  brave. 

LXXV. 
And    strong    work    triumph'd :    each    new    month 

would  show 

A  milder  movement  and  a  firmer  eye  ; 
Not  as  of  one  who  had  forgotten  woe 
But  learn'd  to  greet  expected  Agony. 
No  more  sharp  pain  he  felt,  so  much  as  sorrow ; 
Not  some,  but  all  things  underneath  the  shade ; 
A  loss  from  life  which  life  could  never  borrow, 
But  when  the  lost  seem'd  God's   the  gall   of  grief 
was  stay'd. 

LXXVI. 

One  joy  too  still  remained.     In  lonesome  time 

Far  would  he  journey,  now  the  soul  his  end, 
Beneath  all  shape  of  circumstance  and  crime, 

To  find  how  Love  can  ever  find  a  friend. — 
Who  have  not  faults  ?  who  are  not  faults  regretting  ? 
Who  wish  not  much  ?  who  ever  reach  their  aim  ? 
Who  form  not  plans  for  all  mankind's  abetting? 
And   where  in  all   the  deep  things   are    not   moods 
the  same? 

LXXVII. 

How  then  can  false  misanthropy  mislead 

Our   younger    souls    when    first   they  learn   of 
woe? 


232  SERVING: 

Love  is  not  perfect,  oh  not  so  indeed, 

Or  Heaven  would  fail   to  lure  from  things  be 
low  ! 
But  deem  no  single  vice  your  own  strength  tasking 

For  test,  from  help  and  sympathy  apart ; 
The  foe  may  shift  attack  to  different  masking, 
But  all   success   must   pierce   the   self-same   human 
heart ! 

LXXVIII. 

Go    search    the     world  ;     and,    wheresoe'er    you 

stray, 

The   wonder   is,  you   find   no   wonder   more. 
Behold  !    the  same  brisk  boys,  at  wilesome  play : 
The  same  proud  mothers,  pensive  by  the  door : 
The  same  strong  men,  bow'd  down  by  weight  of 

troubles  : 
The    same    sad  dames,  with    tired    eyes   turn'd 

above  : 
The  same  small  graves  where  drop  life's  bursted 

bubbles, 

Dark  most  from  fear  of  ill,  bright  most  from  wish 
for  love. 

LXXIX. 

Nor  deem,  by  this  cold  Unconcern  appeals 
To  check  each  special  aim  of  general  dust. 

'Tis  Wisdom's  self,  for  wiser  end,  reveals 

The  heart,  and  value  too,  of  heart  to  trust :  — 

Tho'   separate    souls,  for  separate   thought,    must 

sever, 
A  wondrous  oneness  in  the  things  most  dear; 


A   POEM.  233 

Substantial  want  which  feels  for  feeling  ever  ; 
Beneath  all  selfish  sham,  a  sympathy  sincere. 

LXXX. 
For  woe,  what  is  it  ?  —  all  Complaint  that  pleads 

Where  startled  Pity  bends  in  sad  surprise? 
And  bliss,  is  what  ?  —  all  gorgeousness  of  deeds 

That  win  wide  homage  from  admiring  eyes  ? 
Nay !  —  woe,  it  is  that  lonely  life's  bereaving 

Where  threaten'd  Hope  is  nursed  in  secrecy ; 
And  bliss,  it  is  the  glory,  or  the  grieving 
Shared  with  another  !  —  Happiness  is  harmony  ! 

LXXXI. 

A  foe,  we  meet  upon  a  desert  plain 

With  mutual  harmony  of  wish  to  part, 
Is  welcomer  than  friend  who  speaks  disdain 

To  tender  utterance  of  a  trusting  heart ! 
Believe  you,  Christ  the  Lord  had  little  suffer'd, 
If    Woes    had   made    those    limbs   their    only 

mark  — 

Ah  no  !   'twas  Love,  which  felt  love  undiscover'd  ! 
The  Father's  face  withdrawn  !  and  dying  in  the  dark  ! 

LXXXII. 

I    dream,  when    shades    which    bind    the    vision 
here 

Lift  in  exuberance  from  a  Heavenly  view, 
All  simple  shall  the  grandest  truths  appear, 

In  outlines  which,  before,  all  mortals  knew. 
Let  heathen  trace  aback,  through  mystic  story, 

To  lineal  loins  of  Superhuman  birth ; 


234  SERVING: 

The  grandest  good  the  Christian  knows  for  glory, 
Is  simply  to  inherit,  at  the  last,  an  earth. 

LXXXIII. 

An  earth,  made  perfect !  —  where  converting  Love 

Should  share  th'  inheritance  of  all  with  each  ! 

There  generous  Bliss,  now  forced  to  realms  above, 

Would  shun  no  longer  individual  reach  ! 
For  aye,  till  life  be  borne  to  more  that  blesses, 
Till  nature  new,  perchance,  receive  new  aim, 
Who  learns  to  live  the  true  man,  he  possesses 
All  things  which  God  who  made  man  like  Himself 
can  claim. 

LXXXIV. 

Toward    love,  do    all   who    move    with   right   ad 
vance 

Through  knowledge  of  the  man  whom  they  re 
store. 
The    Trade,    whose    Ignorance    crept    with    lifted 

lance, 
Has    learn'd    to    feed,    unmail'd,    each    hungry 

shore. 
The  Spirit,  searching  life's  full  orb  of  beauty, 

Finds  unity  'mid  multiformity ;  — 
One  soul  unseen,  the  source  of  varied  duty ; 
With  faith  in  souls  unseen  ;  then  love  to  faith's  de 
gree. 

LXXXV. 

Think  not  I  have  forgotten  him  we  trace, 
In  views  which  might  appear  beyond,  above. 


A   POEM.  235 

No  truth  in  sky  or  earth  escapes  embrace 

Of  aught  whose  first  and  last  regard  is  love. 
At  home  in  all  God's  household,  naught  can  sunder 

From  God's  Infinity,  a  love-bound  soul : 
Strong   hand    in    hand    it   roams  with  Wish    and 

Wonder, 

Till   he  who  sought  but  one  at  length  have  found 
the  whole. 

LXXXVI. 

How  long  ere  that  is  found !  —  fret  not  to  take 

The  untried  station  if  beyond  the  reach  : 
Accept  self  where  it  is,  with  it  to  make 

The  best  result  there  waiting  deed  and  speech. 

Tis  life  that  brings  the  rest,  oh  youthful  mother, 

To    which    you    seek    to    mould    your   nervous 

child ! 

'Tis  life,  pale  boy,  you  cannot  be  another  ! 
You  try  what  none  can   gain  !    you  mourn   because 
beguiled ! 

LXXXVII. 

Long  time  past  on :  and,  then,  one  summer  eve 
Closed    round  our  wanderer,  worn   with    tramp 

and  heat, 

Hard    by    an    inn  ;  —  "  could  its    small  size    re 
ceive  ?  — 
Or    must     he     search     some     distant     village 

street  ? "  — 
Such   thoughts    as    these,    a   moment   found  him 

testing, 

Swift   through    the    gate,  but   lingering  on  the 
lawn : 


236  SERVING: 

Across  the  path,  like  Eden's  sword  arresting, 
From    open  doors    and    blinds,  a  lengthen'd    blaze 
was  drawn. 

LXXXVIII. 

"  A  festive   scene  !  —  The   stranger  here,"  mused 

he, 

"  Were  doubly  stranger,  with  my  heart  of  pain." 
Then    did     he     stop !    and     shudder  !  —  was    it 

she?  — 
No    less    a    thought    had    roused   such    blood 

amain. 
Convulsed  he  gazed  !     Who  could  have  borne  it 

mildly  ?  — 
Looks !    deeds  !    and,  doubtless,  words   of  love 

were  there ! 

"  Is  this  my  wife  indeed  ?  "  he  murmur'd  wildly, 
"  Am  I  a  mortal  yet  ?   or  have  I  won  despair !  " 

LXXXIX. 

He  drew  more  nigh.  —  How  strong  art  thou,  oh 

Earth ! 
How  hard   the  soul  must  strive  that  would  do 

well! 

Our  paths  divide  ;   the  cause,  a  penny's  worth ; 
One    mounts    above ;    the    other    sinks  toward 

hell.  — 

There    smirking,    and   behind    the    bar    was    sit 
ting 

She  search'd  for  years  —  behold  Fidelity  !  — 
Gross,  vulgar,  bloated,  face  and  form  emitting 
That  flush  where  Flesh  revolts  from  shameful  des 
tiny. 


A   POEM.  237 

XC. 
Her  comrade  left  her  with  adieu  of  mirth, 

To  ask  our  wanderer's  wish  ;  who  answer'd  :  — 

"  life  ! 

Tell  me,  man,  tell  —  by  all  your  soul  is  worth  !  — 
Who  ?  what  are  you  ?  —  and  is  that  —  that,  your 

wife?"  — 
The  inn-man  started  back  •   and  then,  surveying, 

With  a  leer  laugh  of  drunkard-wonder,  said : 
"  No  jokes,  my  man,  no  jokes  !  —  my  wife,  you're 

saying  ?  — 

What,  if   a   bar-maid   sport,  think   you    the    devil's 
wed  ?  " 

xci. 

"  Devil  ! "  he  gasp'd  ;  then  turn'd,  nor   more    in 
quired  : 

He  did  not  look  behind,  nor  look  aside: 
His  tottering  limbs,  oh !  they  were  very  tired  !  — 

A  beggar  stopt  to  spurn  such  lack  of  pride. 
"  Think   you    the  devil's  wed  ? "  one    heard    him 

sighing, 

As  tho'  'twas  all  he  thought  about,  for  days: 
"  Wed  !    oh  not  wed,"  he  groan'd  "  that's    loos'd 

at  dying  :  "  +   ' 

And  death  would    seem    to   come  j   but   harsh    life 
woke  the  haze. 

XCII. 

Full  clouds  may  empty  soon :    he  found  it  so  : 
And  bow'd,  but  as  an  oak  before  the  blast : 


238  SERVING: 

Something  is  shaken  off ;    but  more  will  grow  : 

And  life  is  stronger,  when  the  storm  is  pass'd. 

Strange  it  may  seem,  but  there  is  being,  younger 

From  chafing  much  through  blows  of  blustering 

sway.  — 

Desires,  uncloy'd,  for  simplest  sunbeams  hunger : 
And  live  unrest  contracts  no  mildew  of  decay. 

xcni. 

He  was  not  one  to  pause  where  questions  win  : 
And  where  did  ample  gossip  fail  the  spell  ?  — 
"  Ah  yes  !   the  inn  was  known  ;    and  all  within  : 
Full  many  a  sober  man  who  went  there  fell. 
The   woman  "  —  here   they   shrugg'd  —  "  not   too 

much  squander'd 
Of  worth    in    her,    for    him,    they    guess'd,    or 

them. 
She   mixt   not   with   the  village  :    and   they  wan- 

der'd 

Not  far  to  seek  her  :  —  where's  no  glimmer,  there's 
no  gem." 

xciv. 

"  Facts,  facts  ? "    he   ask'd  ;    as    tho'  the    unseen 

truth 
Had    mystery    which    could    awe    those    social 

ways 
With  charity  right  orthodox,  forsooth, 

And  vice  or  virtue,  self  neglect  or  praise. 
Facts    found    he    none ;    so    turn'd,    with    wiser 

scheming, 
To  wait,  self-crown'd,  an  angel  of  defense, 


A   POEM.  239 

Moved  but  fof  her  •  he  might  be  her  redeeming : 
And  tho'  all  else  might  doubt,  he  pray'd  for  confi 
dence. 

xcv. 

He   sought,  and   braved    well,  all    there    was    to 

hear ; 

As  if,  for  her,  his  suffering  could  atone  ; 
Then,  once,  in  place  where  others  were  not  near, 

Again  he  met  her,  face  to  face,  alone. 
Wild  was    she  first,  with    eyes  whence  hate   was 

beaming ; 

Then  pale  became,  too  pale  for  his  alarm  I 
There  was  a  sigh  !    a  fall !   no  more  of  seeming : 
Nature  had  conquer'd   both  !    he  raised  her  on  his 
arm. 

XCVI. 

Long  was  it  ere  he  roused  her  from  her  swoon  : 

And  longer  ere  he  calm'd  affrighted  blood. 
Then,  when  thought  came,  came  groans  to  wake 

too  soon, 

A  wish  for  death,  and  words,  a  muddled  flood 
Pleading  for  pardon  ;   but,  in  end,  more  clearly 
Told    long    derangement  ;    then,    with    calmer 

voice  :  — 

"  I  would  win  back  your  gold ;  I  paid  too  dearly  ; 
I    delved    too    low,    till    shame,    it    left    no    other 
choice," 

XCVI  I. 

"  Too  much  of  choice,"  he  thought,  "  God  curse 
the  claim  !  "  — 


240  SERVING: 

Then,    waiting    long :  —  "  How    hard    it    is    to 

win !  "  — 
And  Mercy  high  bestow'd  a  kindlier  aim, 

To  balance  long  intent  'gainst  sudden  sin.  — 
"  Nay,"  said  he,  "  Memory,  it  shall  blot  forever 

This  latter  tale  ;   and  read  but  earlier  life. 
Trust    to    my    care    again  ;    naught,    naught    can 

sever 

The  souls  whom  God  has  join'd  :  come  back  ;  you 
are  my  wife." 

XCVIII. 

A  moment,  'spite  of  misery,  she  smiled. 

Then,  suddenly,  "  Nay  !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  Nay  ! 

nay ! 

Oh  never  shall  your  home  be  thus  defiled !  — 
Think,  think  how  I  am  changed  !  —  what  Earth 

may  say  !  " 
Again     he     paused.  —  Forgive,     he     was     not 

stronger : 
Truth   halts  just    where    too    ready    Falsehood 

hies  :  — 

He  feels  the  truth  too  well,  and  feels  it  longer; 
Altho',  with  mien  becalm'd,  he  calmly  thus  replies  : 

xcix. 

"  What  man  may  do,  or  say  ?  —  In  younger  years 
There  was  a  time,  this  test  was  all  to  me. 

On    Earth,    I    sought    my   goal,    my   hopes,    my 

fears  ; 
But  could  not  find  the  whole  I  long'd  to  see. 

There  came  another  day:  my  soul  look'd  higher, 


A   POEM.  241 

To  seek  in  Heaven  what  it  miss'd  in  Earth: 
And  blest  therein ;  but  could  not  aye  aspire  \ 
And  when  I  gazed  around  again,  I  knew  of  dearth. 

c. 

"There   may  be   those  whose  feelings  seem  un 
wise  : 
I  deem'd  mine  had  a  cause,  —  some  fault,  near 

by. 
Then  would  I  pray ;  then,  pledged  to  effort,  rise 

As  tho'  impatient  work  could  satisfy. 
Last,    He  who   has,  'spite    all    that   priests   have 

doubted, 

A  human  way  of  answering  every  soul, 
Sent  you,  with    purpose   their   false   creeds  have 

scouted, 

To  match  my  partial  life  ;   and  make  my  manhood 
whole. 

ci. 

"  What   was   there  then    which   you  were  not  to 

me?  — 

Blest  as  a  messenger  from  Good  above, 
You  brought  me  bliss :  you  bade  my  misery  flee : 

You  were  a  focus  for  all  light  of  love  : 
And,  by  that  light,  did  purity  gain  whiteness : 
And   aims,   you    deem    I   cherish,   what   could 

cheer : 

Ay,  ay,  from  you,   earth    gather'd    all  its  bright 
ness  ! 

And  through  your  soul  I  look'd  to  find  the  Heaven 
dear ! 
16 


242  SERVING; 


CII. 
"  And  that  I  shall  forget  this  past,  think  you  ? 

Shall  life  forget  itself?  —  shade  lighter  sin 
By  suicide  ?  —  oh,  trust  me,  Griefs  pursue, 

As  jockeys  scourge, — to  make  the  whipt  steed 

win ! 
Behind,    then,    let     us     leave     but     things     that 

smarted  ! 

Keep  love  alone,  and  nothing  can  be  loss  ! 
Who    looks   beyond,  'mid   wind   and   wave,  true- 
hearted, 

These    seas    of   woe    wreck   not!    they   speed    his 
power  to  cross  !  " 

cm. 

He*  waited  ;    then,    with    troubled     heart,    once 

more  : 
"  Come,"  said   he,  "  we  will   seek  Love's  only 

throne."  — 
And    peace    came,    such   as    meets    you,    at   the 

door, 

Oh  world-wide  wanderer,  of  a  world  unknown  ! 
He  pray'd  for  perfect  love,  with  thought  related 

First  time  in  long,  long  seasons  not  alone ; 
Nor    age    that   drank   from    youth    was    quickly 

sated  ; 

But  when  he'd  ceast,  behold  !  the  cause  of  hope  was 
gone! 

civ. 

And   where    was    she  ?  —  The    slow  days   cross'd 
the  hills: 


A   POEM.  243 

The    loud    storms    rose,    and    fell,    and    rose 

again  : 

And   there   was   search   anew,  which   naught  ful 
fills : 

And  all  was  done,  till  all  proved  done  in  vain. 
At    length,   the    third  month  brought   with   it   a 

letter, 

Writ  by  a  kindly  doctor,  known  of  yore, 
"  She   had   been   ill,"  he  wrote,  "  but,  now,  'twas 

better : 
Hers  was  that  quiet  home  which  Earth  disturbs  no 


cv. 

A  final  charge,  she  left :  —  "  UntrammePd  still "  — 
Her  words  were  quoted  —  "  live,  with   promise 

high  : 
Claims  there  are,  broader  than  our  narrow  will  : 

Far  better  we  should  part  now,  you  and  I. 
For  me,  await  dear  children  with  no  mother  ; 
And  oh,  so  much  I  need  to  have  reveal'd : 
There  shall  my  poor  life's  failure  vex  no  other : 
And  there,  God  grant!  at  last,  I'll   look  where   all 
are  heal'd. 

cvi. 

"  For  you,  oh  Husband,  lingers  better  fate  ;  — 
Gain   in   this   sphere,  and   gain   in   spheres    to 

come  ; 
Good,    summon'd    long,    equipping    through    the 

state, 
And  greater  good,  beyond  Earth's  battle  drum. 


244  SERVING: 

Was    I    life's    light  ?  —  That    middle    light    was 

given, 
When   young,   too  young  for   truth   mature   to 

cheer : 
When  old,  what  curse,  tho'  nothing's   bright  but 

Heaven  ?  — 
Farewell  :     with     lives     apart,     but     love     forever 


CVII. 

My  tale  is  told  :  if  ye  whose  eyes  it  meet 

Deem  it  a  simple  tale,  so  let  it  be : 
And  think,  once  more,  how  many  on  the  street 

Have  lips,  could  tell  a  simple  history !  — 
If  ye  have  needed  no  experience  ruder 

To  crush  a  confidence  of  long  complaint, 
Give   thanks !     To   one   thus    minded,    life's    In 
truder, 

With   blows   that   come  to  thresh,  may  winnow  but 
the  saint. 

CVIII. 

And  would  ye  seek   him  whom   these   lines   por 
tray, 

Deem  not  his  ways  to  mournful  moods  adjust. 
Ah  no  !     Life  bringeth  too  a  brighter  day : 
Naught  harms   the   soul,   that   does   not  harm 

its  trust. 
For  him,  who  still  has  faith  for  generous  action, 

Full  many  a  thankful  eye  bespeaks  success; 
Full  many  a  thought  that  thrills  the  nobler  faction ; 
Full   many   a   social    sphere    that    circles   wide    to 
bless. 


A   POEM.  245 

CIX. 
The  years  speed  on.     He  early  toils  and  late ; 

Nor  dreams  he  every  gain  from  times  to  come  : 
Oh,  is  not  good  equipping  through  the  state? 

And  is  a  useful  life,  a  martyrdom?  — 
There  are  no  tones  from  loving  hearts  now  well 
ing, 

No  faces,  now,  to  cheer  his  lonely  hearth ; 
But  there  are  smiles,  from  source  above  dispell 
ing, 

And  all  that  is  most  bright,  it  comes  from  Heaven 
not  Earth. 


SI. 

O'ER  life  of  the  first  poem  years  had  past, 
Few  years,  yet  in  those  few  had  grown  a   man 
The  young  store-clerk  whose  pen  had  further'd  it. 
For  those  years  had  compress'd  in  pressing  times 
So  many  long  days'  toils  that  took  but  one, 
So  many  friendships  form'd  in  forming  camps, 
So  many  crowded  tramps  toward  victory, 
So  many  honors  gain'd  through  single  deeds, 
So  many  funerals  for  Faith  to  face, 
So  many  lonely  tears  of  suffering, 
So  much  of  Lie  doom'd  to  eternal  death, 
So  much  of  Truth  saved  for  eternal  prime, 
That  many  a  sire  of  threescore  years  and  ten 
Told  them,  might  weep  his  own  as  half  a  life ! 
Nor  had  the  brave  youth  left  that  sea  of  war, 
Those  stormy  blasts,  and  death  'mid  fire  and  wreck, 
For  mildly  murmuring  rills  of  rhyme  again, 
Ere  the  loud  waves  still  roaring  roar'd  alone 
To  bid  all  heed  how  near,  how  dear  the  port ! 
But  then,  with  wounded  limb,  at  home  once  more, 
With  joy  he'd  join'd  the  poet  in  his  praise,  — 
Praise  in  the  dawning  of  a  coming  peace, 
A  song,  not  chirping  low  'mid  doubtful  dusk, 
But  lark's-like,  trembling  where  to  rest  were  heaven ! 


POEM   SEVENTH. 


WATCHING. 

i. 

LIFE    is   one,   whate'er   the    portion;    ease    to 
play,  or  toil  to  plan, 
Joy  or  sorrow,  haste  or  caution,  all  must  blend  to 

make  the  man: 

Youth  to  fail  or  age   to  prosper ;  both  to  sink  be 
neath  a  blow; 
God   is  greater  than   disaster:   life  is   one,  not   all 

below. 
It  is   one   tho'  lives   be  many;  good  or  bad   may 

rise  or  fall ; 
Honor  droop,  or  treason  flourish ;  Love  that  right- 

eth,  righteth  all. 
Trust  no  greatness  with  a  greater :   man  is  strong, 

but  God  is  strength: 
And  the  breath  of  the  Creator  wakes  the  dead  to 

win  at  length. 
Howsoever  lone  the   contest,  do   not  dream   Good 

moves  apart: 
Mixt  and  hostile  seem  the  summons  ;  one  has  only 

known  the  start: 
There's   a   blast   whose    sound    is   louder   than   an 

earthly  trumpet-call: 


250  WATCHING: 

In  the  end  beyond  each  other,  God  alone  is  all  in 

all. 
Life  is  one  for  stars  or  spirits  !  from  the  oceans  to 

the  fires ; 
From  the  righteous  blaze  of  Heaven  to  the  gloom 

where  Wrong  expires. 
Trust  the  grandeur  of  disorder,  and  a  grander  Will 

to  blend, 
God!,  the   Alpha   and   Omega,  the   Beginning   and 

the  End! 

ii. 

Happy  he  whose  steps  can  wander  o'er  the  smoke 

of  present  strife, 
And,  above   distraction,  ponder   all   the   far   results 

of  life : 
Be  he  soldier,  sage,  or   poet,  it  is  he   whose  views 

sublime 

From   that  hight  of  central   wisdom  guide  the   cir 
cling  shifts  of  Time. 
Just   as  blest  the   humbler   toiler  who   beneath,  in 

battle  black, 
Hearing  voice  of  Truth   Eternal,  thence   perceives 

the  foe  fall  back  : 
He  as   well    with    thankful    spirit,    'mid    successes 

swift  tho'  late, 
Learns    to   know    the    Source   of  victory;   learning 

this,  learns  too  to  wait. 

in. 

He   shall  find   life   not   all   law:   in   nature,  things 
not  seen  to  grow ;  — 


A   POEM.  251 

Storms   that    slip    the    bars    of  sunshine !    meteors 

that  strike  fire  through  snow  ! 
Thought   that    is   not    led    by   Logic  !    Proof   that 

leaps  the  lines  to  show 
How   the    breath    of  Truth    is   stronger    than    the 

beatings  of  its  foe  ! 
There  are  mild  Words   that   can   waken  fear !   and 

struggle!   and  despair! 
Tho'    they   leave    no    track    behind    them ;    nor    a 

shade  to  mar  the  air; 
Do    not  glitter   in  the    sunshine;   do    not   thunder 

o'er  the  plain ; 
Do    not    flash'   the    leaden    lightning ;    crowd    no 

clouds  to  shroud  the  slain  :  — 
Words  of  Truth  and  Words  of  Godhead  !  Words  of 

Christ!   and  every  where 
When  they  sound  the  Lies  that  lurk  in  forms  pos- 

sess'd  of  evil  there 
Rend  mistaken  frames  that  held  them  !  leave  each 

writhing  on  the  ground  ! 
Skulk   aback   to    native    darkness!    sink  below  to 

woe  profound ! 

IV. 

In  the  course  of  men  and  nations,  there  are  times 

that  are  not  blest, 
When  the  surface  seems  the   substance,  and  forgot 

is  all  the  rest : 
As  the  life  is,  so  the  thought  is ;  depth  unsounded, 

truth  in  doubt, 
Groping  men  who  touch  each  other  learn  to  leave 

the  spirit  out. 


252  WATCHING: 

Clouds  hang  earthward  ;  and  they  nod,  'mid  dreams 
that  Heaven  too  is  low: 

And  they  kiss  the  dust,  half-hoping  God,  an  idol, 
worshipt  so. 

Then  comes  need  of  revelation ;  and  the  Truth 
that  dwells  above 

Sends  the  Light  in  ways  that  publish  both  its  per 
son  and  its  love : 

'Mid  the  gloom  the  sun-bright  chariot  dawns  and 
glances  through  the  air, 

And  the  cheer  of  Faith  awakens,  just  as  most 
await  Despair. 

v. 

Weaker  souls  who   kneel  to   error,  what  are  we  to 

weep  the  truth, 
Cowards  for  another's  vigor,  laggards  for  another's 

youth  ? 
Why  should  private  gage   a  conflict  by   his  danger 

.    or  degree  ? 
Wherefore   fret   impatient   projects    for  an    end  he 

should  not  see  ? 
In  the  work  we  have  before  us,  what   are  we  that 

we  should  live  ?  — 
Proud  indeed  to  be  permitted  feeble  succor  still  to 

give: 
Yet  the  poor  man  from  his   cottage,  and  the  rich 

man  from  his  hall 
Here   fill   equal   spheres,   the    agents  of  the   Lord 

who  doeth  all. 


A  POEM.  253 

VI. 

Trust!  altho'  the  tyrant  prosper:  'tis  the  triumph 
of  the  Wrong 

Is  its  own  tribunal !  Patience !  heed  the  plea,  and 
watch  the  throng. 

You  shall  find  in  wrong  more  error  than  can  make 
the  wish  unkind : 

When  its  spring  is  not  the  clearest,  not  the  clear 
est  all  the  mind. 

Working  out  through  thought  and  action,  wrong 
would  earn  an  ill  surcease, 

E'en  tho'  righteous  Indignation  ne'er  did  break  a 
guilty  peace  ; 

E'en  tho'  Evil,  grown  presumptuous,  did  not  force 
the  test  of  power, 

Blow  with  madden'd  lips  the  summons  of  its  own 
worst  fated  hour; 

When,  amid  confusion  thronging,  comes  stern  Op 
portunity, 

Sworn  to  punish  for  the  present,  proud  to  maim 
eternally !  — 

Who,  with  test  of  arbitration  once  submitted  to  the 
Lord, 

From  one  deed,  His  Love  condemneth,  dare  with 
hold  the  lifted  sword?  — 

Oh !  I  hail  the  crackling  barriers  of  expedient  com 
promise, 

Pledge  to  Error  that  forswears  them  !  let  them  fall 
that  Right  may  rise! 

And  I  welcome  on  the  war-cry  when  the  true  to 
gether  run !  — 


254  WATCHING: 

Hosts  in  Heaven  seek  truth  together,  every  step 
and  impulse  one. 

It  is  Christ-like,  God-like,  dying  for  another's  lib 
erty ! 

Live  or  die,  with  right  remaining,  God  remains!  — 
and  victory ! 

VII. 

Even   so,    the    Lord    hath    triumphed.      High    and 

wide,  on  hill  and  heath, 
Sprung    and    flash'd   the  sword   long  rusted,    then, 

made  bright,  return'd  to  sheath. 
Friends,  forgive  too  wild  emotion.     If  the  old  man's 

joy  appear, 
Let  the  truth,  forever  young,  rejuvenate   a  frosted 

year! 
'Tis    not    oft,    the    few    souls    searching   Freedom, 

wandering  in  its  youth 

Through   the   dim    and   direful   pathways    that    en 
snare  the  child  of  Truth, 
Have  so  soon,  amid    their   doubting,   found   among 

their  little  band 
That  unknown  One,  girded,  silent,  but  immortal  to 

command  ; 
Or  have  seen  their  flickering   torches   pass'd   along 

through  all  the  dark ; 
Or   have   heard   their   own  weak   summons    echoed 

loud  from  wild  and  park : 
Therefore,    let  us  joy   and    worship :   glory   to    the 

Lord  and  praise ! 
To  the  lost  he  brings  salvation  !  light  illumines  all 

the  ways ! 


A  POEM.  255 

VIII. 
Am    I  wrong  ?  —  Oh   say    some    prophet  ?    must    I 

speak  no  Heavenly  plan  ? 
Tune,  like  Miriam,  no  praises  for   deliverance  that 

I  scan  ? 
Trace   I    not    the    Spirit's    leading,   wheresoe'er    a 

slave  's  made  free  ? 
Or   a    free    race    threaten'd    have    maintain'd    the 

cause  of  liberty  ? 
Or  is  then  that  watchword  rousing   every  age   and 

every  van, 
Liberty !  a  lying  instinct  from  the   God  who  made 

the  man  ?  — 
Nay,  I  err  not :  111,  there  present,  banish'd  Adam  ; 

outlaw'd  Cain  ; 
Cheer'd    and   cringed   to    Saul's   oppression ;  went, 

led  captive  o'er  the  plain : 
'Gainst   the   111,   Life   moves   to    action,   sway'd   by 

words  of  Prophecy :  — 

That  "  the  bonds  shall  all  be  broken,  and  the  cap 
tives  shall  go  free  ;  " 
Faithful    still   to    Him    who  governs    Heaven,    and 

Earth,  and  age,  and  youth, 
Saints  in   rest,  and   men  in   motion,  and  the   unity 

of  Truth ! 

IX. 

There  be  those   who  limit  promise  to  this  smaller, 

earthly  ball :  — 
Life  is   one  :   on   earth  is   but  a  germ,  tho'   still  a 

germ  of  all. 


256  WATCHING: 

There  be  more  who   limit  virtue  to   a  place  where 

all  is  bliss  :  — 
Life  is  one :   the  right  in  that  life  is  the  flower  of 

right  in  this. 
Let   me    never   aim    for   FREEDOM,  careless   of   one 

conscious  chain: 
Law    is   one;    and    Love   appealing    points    to   all 

woes  that  remain. 

x. 

I  am   old :   my  sleep   is  troubled  ;   and  the   course 

of  daily  Thought, 
Plunging  into   darkness,  peoples   all  the  night  with 

what  it  sought : 
And,  as   weary   eyelids   close,  to   ope   in  realm   of 

visions  rare, 
It  may  be   old  age   is   childish  ;  yet  I   watch   and 

wonder  there  ! 

XI. 

Once,  I  found  a  mortal  struggling  toward  a  lone 
isle  of  the  sea, 

That,  in  such,  no  other's  Will  might  breathe  a  threat 
to  Liberty: 

First  came  peace  ;  but  soon  vain  Fancy  that  had 
fought  each  rival's  tone, 

Occupationless  and  restless,  stirr'd  revolt  to  Rea 
son's  throne : 

Mock'd  the  winds  like  human  voices  !  moved  the 
shades  like  human  forms ! 

And  the  leaves,  like  footsteps,  rustled  'twixt  the 
thunders  and  the  storms ! 


A   POEM.  257 

While  the  cynic,  far  from  manhood,  what  was  man 
hood's  self  forgot, 

Curst  the  earth,  and  curst  the  heaven ;  rest  or  free 
dom  had  he  not. 

XII. 

Then  I  saw  a  wiser  instinct  flowing  forth  unitedly, 
Where  far    people  flock'd    together    at    the    cry    of 

"  Liberty  ! " 
'Twas    like  thunder  to   the  hill-sides,  shaking   seas 

from  every  spring; 
RolPd  like  waves  upon  the  ocean  when  the  sailors 

cease  to  cling ; 

Till   the   mighty   surf,  swept   onward,   quench'd   be 
neath  its  hissing  tide 
All  the  flaming  guns  that  bellow'd  from  the  towers 

of  tyrant-pride  ! 
Crash'd    the    walls    with    dread    resounding !  —  but 

the  weary  waters  sank  :  — 
Fickle  flood  !  —  where  fell  the  ruin,  rose  a  stouter, 

stonier  bank. 

XIII. 

Then  appear'd  wise   lords   who   ponder'd  :  — "  Men 

with  diverse  wills  to  blend, 
Men  grow  mad  :  let  one  be  master ;  let  the  dream 

of  poets  end." 
Spake    they  truth,  or   spake   they  error  ?  —  sift  the 

bran  of  heresy : 
Part  is  truth  to  tempt   the  cautious  •   part  is  lie  to 

poison  by.  — 
Truth  or  error,  God   had  granted   Saul  but   at  the 

people's  choice  ; 
17 


258  WATCHING: 

Grants  Oppression  —  ne'er  till  cowards  whimper  for 
a  braver  voice. 

XIV. 

Oh,   ye    statesmen,   sages,   soldiers,   ye    who    watch 

the  range  of  sight, 

Ye  do  well  to  name  things  "  dreaming "  which  Phi 
losophy  calls  "  right !  " 
Dreams  they  are,  for  in  our  doing  each  one  grasps 

the  gains  of  earth, 
Selfish  here,  and  there  suspicious,  cursing  down  his 

brother's  worth ; 
Each  a  tyrant  of  his  corn-field,  fencing  up  the  last 

by-path, 
Whining  out  for  laws  t'uphold  him,  and  restrain  the 

neighbors'  wrath. 
Man's  own  self  it  is  that  limits  all  the  good  that 

might  be  his  : 
His    own    heart  whose  fears  and  failings  keep  the 

soul  aback  from  bliss  ; 
While  his  Wish  would  injure  Love,  just  Conscience 

holds  the  Wish  confined : 
And  the  statutes  are  the  mirrors  of  the  slave  within 

the  mind. 

xv. 

Yes  !   we  need  that  Earth  grow  wiser,  ere  prepared 

to  have  the  true ; 
Thought  for  common  weal  to  rule  us,  ere  the  lines 

of  law  be  few ; 
That  some  Light  from  out  the  Heaven  dissipate  false 

shades  of  fear, 


A    POEM.  259 

Ere  we  spy  the  worth  of  manhood,  and  how  much 

in  souls  is  dear; 

And,  above  all,  that  which  only  can  give  true  equality, 
Views  of  God,  that  in  His  presence  human  greatness 

cease  to  be  ! 

XVI. 

Far  above,  I  saw  a  Monarch,  with  a  glory  like  the  sun, 
And  like  stars  his  loyal  subjects,  for  all  brightness 

sprang  from  one : 
Where  they  moved,  with  His  will   prompting,  came 

no  check  :  —  but  one  could  see 
Every  path,  which  lay  wide  open,  led  along  Infinity. 
Plenty    ripen'd    there    for    all    men,  springs  of  joy, 

forever  quaft, 
And  their  depths,  which  lost  no  ripple,  closed  above 

the  largest  draft. 
Then    the   people,   earth's    sad   people,  far    without 

that  realm  of  light, 
Crush'd  by  burdens,  sinking  prostrate,  this  was  that 

which  lured  their  sight ; 
This  was  that  which  from  the  distance  roused  their 

cheer  for  "  Liberty  !  " 
Right  to  deem  it  all  of  Heaven  !   God  !   and  dearest 

destiny ! 

XVII. 

Once,  amid  dread  Sinai's  wonders,  through  thick 
clouds  and  tempests  driven, 

Came  the  Vision  to  the  prophet,  speaking  change 
less  laws  of  Heaven. 

Earth  with  all  of  Israel  trembled,  yet  those  whom 
these  laws  restrain'd, 


260  WATCHING: 

Hearing  truths,  long  vaguely  guiding,  knew  'twas 
Love  had  all  explain'd  : 

And  the  wise  adored  a  standard,  clear  beyond  all 
sophistry 

King  or  priest,  with  blinded  conscience,  to  inter 
pret  wrongfully. 

XVIII.  * 

Once   again  was   law  explain'd,  the   mystery  of  its 

source  and  end, 
When  the  Sovereign  Love  appear'd,  a  man  to  follow 

as  a  friend, 
For  the  letter'd  law  the  Spirit,  Life  to  lure,  through 

truth  shown  dear, 
Souls  unconscious  of  constraining,  from  all  goading 

conscience  clear. 
Law    remains !    but    law's    fulfillment,  it    can   hush 

earth's  long  complaint : 

It  is  love  for  all  of  duty,  moves  oblivious  of  restraint. 
Till    such    come    shall    bonds   protest    against    the 

crimes  they  would  restore : 
Only  Love  can  sway  the  land,  yet  open  every  prison 

door : — 
Self  shall  stir,  'mid  jealous  rulers,  false  aggression, 

falser  pride  : 
Only  Love  can  govern  justly  where   the  wrongs  of 

race  subside. 

XIX. 

Joy   it    is,  to   know   in    all    things    that   the   deeds 

which  seem  our  own, 
Struggling  on  to  grand  achievement,  are  not  left  to 

move  alone. 


A   POEM.  261 

All  true  living  seems  a  circle,  curving  with  mys 
terious  cord 

Up  through  wish  and  out  through  action,  sweep 
ing  from  and  to  the  Lord. 

In  the  soul's  profoundest  being,  when  all  worldly 
strife  is  still, 

Flames  a  power  from  inspiration,  lighting  the  reluc 
tant  will : 

And  the  man  who,  in  thick  darkness,  gropes  to 
find  a  better  day, 

By  the  red  fire  of  his  spirit  reads  some  signals  of 
the  way : 

Nor  pursues  mere  flash  and  shadow  !  Oh  !  to  those 
who  still  aspire 

Comes  a  Word,  a  Light,  dispelling  dim  delusions 
of  desire. 

Happy  he  to  whose  ideal  real  good  the  spectacle, 

For  the  only  holy  aim  must  be  the  highest  pos 
sible  ! 

When  the  Spirit's  loving  moves  us,  and  the  mist 
'fore  Truth  dissolves, 

Safe  within  a  mystic  orbit,  doubly  blest  our  course 
revolves. 

Then  the  Faith  that  waver'd  looks  back,  restful,  on 
the  Infinite : 

Then  the  Hope,  with  eyes  a-vacant,  spies  the 
Beatific  Light! 

Here  is  life's  completed  cycle  !  here  the  long  lost 
harmony ! 

Here  awakes  the  soul's  dear  music  !  here  the  bliss 
we  pray  shall  be  ! 

Out  of  it,  the  charm  is  broken,  tangent-jarr'd  to 
lone  dismay.  — 


262  WATCHING: 

Heaven,  preserve   us    all    from    straying,  guide   our 

wish,  and  guide  our  way ! 
Match    again    the  lost  connection    where  creation's 

currents  blend, 
God,  the  Alpha  and  Omega !  the  Beginning  and  the 

End! 

xx. 

As    in    one    life,    so    in    many :    no    high    purpose 

prompts  a  race, 
But  above,  some  Revelation  moves  the  headlights  on 

apace  : 

No  forsaken  germ  is   progress,  growing  from  inhe 
rent  powers, 
But  a  trunk,  ofttimes  ingrafted,  touch'd  from  Heaven, 

aside  from  showers. 
It  was  when  God  walk'd  with  fathers,  that  the  sire 

was  king  and  seer; 
When  He  spake  from  Sinai,  then  were  oracles,  and 

priests,  and  fear: 

With  the  later,  ampler  truth,  revealing  loyalty  as  love, 
Freedom    grew    a  faith    and  flourish'd,  nurtur'd    by 

the  skies  above. 

XXI. 

And   my   soul    has   thought   that   Wisdom,    tracing 

back  the  mighty  plan, 
Might  not  scan  in  all  of  history  more  than  marks 

the  single  man  :  — 
When    the  weakness  of  the    infant   first  assays    an 

appetite, 
Then  maternal   care  that  nurses  finds  the  way,  and 

names  the  right : 


A   POEM.  263 

When    the    child    has    grown    to    manhood,  looking 

toward  Eternity, 
Rule  and    reason  both    must  guide    him  toward  a 

self-wrought  destiny. 
There  was  age,  in  Earth's  beginning,  when  the  mind, 

which  solved  no  cause, 
Knelt  in  reverence  to   commandment,  and  to  holy 

text  of  laws  : 
Comes    an    age,  as    Earth   grows   older,   when   the 

soul,  'mid  wider  light, 
Grasps  the  wonders  of  creation,  and  the  wisdom  of 

the  right : 
God    is    Lord   through    independence  !    Truth   and 

Error,  equally, 

Lure  Experience  into  danger,  that  it  learn  humility : 
At  the  last  shall  Faith  triumphant,  freed  for  worthier 

worship,  bend, 
Taught  to  know  Who    is  Omega,  Who    Beginning, 

Who  the  End! 

XXII. 

Who  are  they  whose  deeds  shall  stand,  the  monu 
ments  to  mark  their  time  ?  — 

Deeds  of  those  who  build  with  God,  a  structure 
strong  for  endless  prime : 

All  beside,  with  heat  and  bluster,  splendid  scaffolds 
only  rear, 

Doom'd  to  fall,  'mid  waste  and  wonder,  when  the 
unseen  towers  appear. 

XXIII. 

Well  for  earth  did  zealous  leaders  plan  but  to  ful 
fill  the  Word, 


264  WATCHING: 

That  "  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth  shall  be  the  king 
doms  of  the  Lord." 
Oh    the  Times    might   bound    right  onward :    there 

are  lights  all  down  the  track  : 
Yawning  brakemen  fear  for  darkness  ;  and  we   jolt 

with  war  and  wrack. 
Oh  for  power  to  rouse  their  torpor  with  a  draft  of 

heavenly  health  ! 
Oh  for    power   to    show  the   stations,  gleaming   far 

with  waiting  wealth ! 
Thanks  to  God,  our  ways  are  weakness :    there  is 

something  wiser  still 
In    the    steady  wheels    of  progress    than    within    a 

human  will. 
Heaven,  it  is,  controls  the  sunlight  that  shall  wake 

each  selfish  dream ; 
And  reveal  to  guilty  slumber,  good  is  nearer  than 

may  seem. 

XXIV. 

Hark  !   e'en  now  the  wind  a-whisper !  and  the  men 

of  active  heart 
Spring  to  bear  glad  tidings  forward,  ere  the  day  is 

seen  to  start. 
What  to  them  is  wild  or  ocean,  care  or  loss,  disease 

or  death? 
What   are   thorns  that  vex   the   body  to  a  life  that 

lives  in  breath  ? 
Lo  !  by  stranger-ears  unheeded,  long  they  cull  from 

ancient  tome 
Words  to  worthily  speak  out  the  worth  of  Truth  to 

heathen  home.        / 


A   POEM.  265 

But    alas    for    lengthened    effort  !    what,    to   stupor. 

choicest  words  ? 
Deep-brought    thought    to    superstition  ?    soul-sent 

eloquence  to  herds  ? 
Oft    in   distant   fields,  'mid    shadows  slowly    lifting, 

one  by  one, 
Doubt  on   empty  nest  sits  brooding  o'er  the  things 

that  have  been  done. 

XXV. 

Note    again  !    the   light   advances  !    men,    uprising 

o'er  the  plain, 
Spy  along  the  far  horizon  broader  fields  for  broader 

gain. 
Comes   a  wind  of  wider  wielding:   wakes   a  flutter 

o'er  the  strand : 

All    the   banners  white  of  commerce    pushing    out 
ward  from  the  land : 
Stirs   again  a  sound  of  struggle:   wheels  that  beat 

the  thwarted  main  ; 
Willful  wheels  that  mount  the  mountain  ;  and  that 

leap  the  lonely  plain  : 
Nerve-like  wires  that  whiz  and  wander ;  light  that's 

burning  through  the  sea ; 

Earth's  united  orb  electric  to  one  touch  of  sympathy  ! 
Look  !    long  hosts  of  emigration,  sweeping  on  with 

golden  train, 

Wonder,  worship,  imitation,  —  harvests  on  the  desert 
plain. 

Knowledge,  Virtue,  Wisdom  come.     Oh  toil  ye  on, 

ye  mission-souls ! 
Deeds  are   grander    than    Earth's    planning :    It    is 

God  who  still  controls  ! 


266  WATCHING: 

Move   thou    on,  bright  Sun  of   Morning:   burn  the 

mists  upon  the  hills : 
Flame  against  the  frozen  summits  :  flash  adown  from 

melting  rills : 
Thaw  the  whited  wastes  above  us :  flood  the  plains 

to  culture  Worth : 
Rout  the  clouds,  and  leave  but  Heav'n  'twixt  man 

and  God  who  gave  him  birth ! 

XXVI. 

Now  comes  day,  that  better  dawning,  when,  from 
glance  of  waking  eyes, 

Flit  the  dreams  of  present  progress,  pale  their 
pageantries  of  lies. 

Come  divines,  and  search  the  outlines  of  a  sect 
that  had  a  fame: 

Feel  for  phantom  of  the  darkness  :  love  is  left  with 
out  a  name  — 

Freer  forms  and  more  of  feeling  •  less  of  talk  and 
more  of  deed  — 

What  the  Bible  leaves  to  manhood,  leaving  to  the 
souls  who  read. 

Statesmen,  come,  and  search  the  limits  of  a  nation 
fear'd  of  yore  : 

Clearer  now  the  light  beyond  you  :  lo  !  the  shadows 
fold  no  more. 

Where  those  far,  mysterious  murmurs,  movements 
of  a  dusky  race  ? 

Where  are  they?  Who  find  the  stranger  meet  the 
God-like  face  to  face. 

More  and  more  give  way  the  barriers :  one  of  feel 
ing,  one  of  thought,  — 


A   POEM.  267 

What  is  there  to  hinder  all  things  that   the  strug 
gling  world  has  sought? 
What  are  plains  and  mounts  and  oceans,  what  are 

tongues  to  unity? 
Commerce,  customs,  institutions,  have    not   all   one 

destiny  ?  — 
When  the  time  comes,  righten  evil,  spite  the  selfish 

or  the  strong, 
Gog    and    Magog  or    the  devil,  —  or  conservers  of 

the  wrong  ! 
When  the  time  comes,  there's  a  banner  by  the  right 

to  be  unfurl'd 
Where  the  patriot  of  the  nation  stands  the  patriot 

of  the  world  ! 
When  the  time  comes,  there's  a  Babel  where  shall 

sound  one  Master-call, 
And   the  people  mount  to  Heaven,  with   the  Lord 

there,  all  in  all  1 

XXVII. 

When  the  time  comes,  ah !   that  future !  blessed  be 

the  eyes  that  see  — 
Ay,  and  blessed  they  who  hope  it,  free  from  earthly 

tyranny, 
From  the  world  whose  calmest  living  must  be  one 

long  struggle  here 
'Gainst  the  moulds  that  strain  and   shatter  all   that 

Nature's  child  held  dear ! 
.It  shall  need   no  simple  logic,  to  reveal  that  rage 

of  kings 
Holds    no    calmer    rein    to    war    than    slaves   who 

bear  its  sufferings  ; 


268  WATCHING: 

Or  to  waken  trust,  where  God  gives  wish  for  freest 
thought  and  speech, 

That  the  right  is  meant  to  prosper  through  a  true 
regard  for  each. 

Long  as  anxious  Progress  lingers  by  the  gate,  with 
out  the  keys, 

Vain  attempt  for  equal  love  until  the  proud  sur 
render  these. 

You  shall  find  each  older  bigot  sway  the  younger 
statesmen's  skill, 

Grinding  lesser  wheels  the  closer,  smooth  to  work 
the  monarch's  will : 

While  there's  dirty  work  to  forward,  speaking:  — 
"  Ignorance  for  the  worst : 

Shut  away  the  light  of  learning,  lest  they  learn 
themselves  accurst : " 

Long  as  fills  the  purse  of  Empire :  —  "  Pet  police 
and  veteran  ; 

Crush  the  grape,  the  more 's  the  yielding ;  better 
money  than  the  man :  " 

If  the  wiser  conscience  question  :  —  "  Oh  !  the 
priest 's  ordain'd  to  rule ! 

What,  tho'  meant  for  darker  ages  ?  —  for  the  forms, 
preserve  the  fool !  " 

XXVIII. 

Where    oh,  where    shall   faith    in    broader  honor  to 

outweigh  the  small, 
Outweigh  individual  scheming,  by  intrusting   power 

to  all? 
Where  shall  states,  with  generous  welcome,  bidding 

all  ambition  rise, 


A   POEM.  269 

Press    around    the   growing    infant    truth    to    make 

each  ruler  wise  ? 
Where  shall  Virtue  seeking  comrades,  Worth  the  soul 

to  breathe  through  speech, 
Learn    to    prize    a    loftier    level    where    all    hope 

exalteth  each  ? 
Truth !    the  Infinite  !   the   All !    that  rules   through 

finite  thoughts  of  man, 
Where  shall  it  be  sought  and  follow'd  through  the 

laws  that  all  shall  plan?  — 

XXIX. 

Lo  !    there  dawn'd  a  light  about  me :    and  a  vision 

in  my  sleep 
Rose  above  the  midnight  vapors,  and  it  floated  o'er 

the  deep  :  — 
Shell  of  alabaster  brightness  by  an  unseen  impulse 

drawn, 
Speeding   on    three  forms    who  journey 'd    softly  as 

the  sprites  of  dawn: 
Beauteous  stood  the  central  figure,  with  her  mild  eyes 

on  the  sky, 
But   with   prayerful   frame   bent    forward,  eager,  as 

for  large  reply: 
Just  above  her  unbound  ringlets,  seem'd  to  gleam 

the  morning  star ; 
And    within    her     burnish'd     breastplate,    mirror'd 

lands  to  glance  from  far: 
'Neath  her  left  hand,  turn'd  averted,  crouch'd   the 

aged  limbs  of  War, 
Yet    he    clutch'd    his     lightning-quiver,    fierce     as 

youngest  conqueror; 


270  WATCHING: 

While,  from  harsh  face   gazing   backward,  wild   his 

red  eyes  flared  to  see 
Dark  Confusion  linger  slumbering  on  the  limits  of 

the  lea : 

At  her  right  hand,  closely  clasping,  knelt  the  white- 
robed  form  of  Peace, 
As   a  prince  might   kneel  for  crowning,  or  a  saint 

before  release ; 
With   her  free   hand  at  her  forehead,  shielding  the 

intenser  glance 
Of  a  face    that   still   spake  :  —  "  Patience  !  "  yet  for 

ever  spake  :  —  "  Advance  !  " 
Where  they  moved,  bright  shapes  before  them  sprang 

from  out  the  sky  and  sea  — 
All    the   golden    Hopes  of  Heaven   leaping  to  live 

Prophecy ! 

'Twas  as  though  a  grander  nation,  wash'd  of  preju 
dice  and  pride, 
Past  a  newer,  broader  Jordan,  rose  upon  a  brighter 

side  — 
'Twas  a  world    that    caught  a  glory,  flash'd    along 

from  mount  and  isle  — 
'Twas  the  Heaven  itself  unfolding  where  all  nations 

throng'd  the  while  — 
And  a  young  Wind  rose  that  whisper'd  :  —  "  Where 

shall  man  to  man  be  true  ?  — 
With  The  Old  is   hard   repentance !    Freedom  hies 

to  seek  The  New  !  " 

XXX. 

"  To  The  New  !  "  —  I    caught   the  accents  ;   and  I 
gloried  in  the  theme  : 


A   POEM.  271 

And  I   shouted  it  in  slumber,  so  the  cry  awoke  my 

dream. 
Then    I    found    me    old    and   feeble,  faint,  with  so 

much  work  to  do, 
"  Ah  !  "  I  moan'd :  —  "  All  things  that  falter,  —  what 

can  live  but  in  The  New  ? " 

XXXI. 

Oh,  ye  "newer,   truer  Hearts,   that    beat   in   fresher 

ranks  of  life, 
Youth,  brave  youth,  the  cheer  of  present,  and   the 

strength  of  future  strife  ; 
Forms,  whose  steps  are  recreation,  and  whose  very 

breath  a  joy, 
All  unwearied  from  the  pathways  where  this  smoke 

and  dust  annoy  ; 
Faces,  bright  to  coming  fortune,  beauteous    in   the 

flush  of  zeal, 
Fixt  and  frosted    not  by  winters    that    have  chill'd 

first  faith  in  weal ; 

Eyes,  that  proudly  dodge  contentment,  free  of  wel 
come  for  the  strange, 
Not  yet  cower'd   by  cruel   blows,  nor  disappointed 

past  a  change ; 
Souls,  that  ne'er  have  cring'd  to  failure,  or  surren- 

der'd  flag  of  hope, 
But  adown  life's  longest  vista  spy  the  Heaven,  its 

only  scope ; 
Do  you  know  how  tired  Age  rallies  when  it  hears 

your  bounding  tread? 
How  in  your  endearing  presence  every  weaker  Love 

has  fled?  — 


272  WATCHING: 

Age  !  —  I  see  the  angels  bending  through  this  thick 

and  troubled  air  !  — 
Ah,  fair    spirits,   fresh   from    Heaven,  without   you, 

life  were  despair  ! 

XXXII. 

Thanks    to  God,  Life   moves   on  with  you !   Time, 

that  rides  to  victory, 
Thunders  past  the  fainting  soldier,  rousing  thought 

of  what  shall  be. 
So  is  Hope  triumphant  ever !    Life  has  had  its  fill 

of  pain ; 
But    the   shade   of    Melancholy  claspt  me   to    her 

breast  in  vain. 
Phantom   film  of  mortal   making!  —  what  was  she 

to  hide  the  Heaven  ? 
My  weak   hands   that   clutch'd   despairing,  as   they 

stirr'd,  beheld  her  driven. 
If  there   be  one   woe  more  dread  in   fabled   realm 

where  dawns  no  day, 
Where   the    nearing   fumes    of  torment   choke    the 

laughter  of  the  way, 
Where  the  greedy  fires  before  one  tear  swift  drafts 

from  all  the  air, 
Till,  like  brute  that  bounds  toward   burning,  sense 

be  fever'd  to  despair, 
It  is  that,  to  him  who   seeks  it,  turning  back  from 

reckless  fear, 
All  the  flames   light   up  no   outlines  of  a  hope,  of 

old,  so  dear. 


A  POEM.  273 

XXXIII. 

Never,  while  these  years  are  waiting  larger  earthly 
waste  of  man, 

With  the  strife  for  Heaven  still  raging,  does  the 
dark  hide  all  the  van. 

Howe'er  thick  the  gloom  have  gather'd,  howe'er 
fierce  the  missils  be, 

Through  the  Thunder's  trembling  pathway  glim 
mers  light  for  victory ! 

All  above  us,  all  about  us,  rift  the  clouds  from 
prospects  still, 

Aims  of  Hope  that  e'er  abides  to  marshal  on  the 
loyal  will  ? 

xxxiv. 

Aims   of  Hope   that   moves   to   triumph !    triumph, 

not  alone  for  youth, 
But   for  age,    for   all   who    worship    immortality   in 

Truth. 
Far   above   the   under   effort,  which   these   troubled 

ages  know, 
Scans  that  wiser  Trust  that  tells  us :  —  life  is  one  ; 

not  all  below. 
Where  does  Meditation  ponder,  Sorrow  fold  a  whiter 

shroud, 
Conscious    not   of   blessings    nearer    than    through 

Time's  long  battle  cloud  ? 
Fancy,    flying    to    her    mission,    shoots    along    the 

starry  way: 
Reason  follows  on,  beholding  wider  bliss  the  more 

they  stray : 
18 


274  WA  TCHING  : 

Both,  with  growing  light  bewilder'd,  down  to  dark 
ness  fall  —  in  vain  ! 

Only  wise  in  wishing  wisdom  !  failing  but  to  fail 
again ! 

Still  would  Logic  hold  its  centre  ;  still  the  Con 
science  claim  its  throne ; 

Age  await  the  gates  of  Heaven ;  and  the  soul 
maintain  its  own  ; 

All  the  loss  of  lower  living  trust  to  higher  des 
tiny, 

Even  tho'  no  Revelation  made  them  all  a  cer 
tainty. 

xxxv. 

Ne'er  can   mortal  wing  his   vision   up   within  those 

bright  abodes ; 
Ne'er    can    breathe    that    air    seraphic ;    ne'er   can 

touch  those  shining  robes ; 
Ne'er  can  press  that  hand,  grown   sacred  from  the 

heart  whose  work  it  plies ; 
Ne'er   can    watch    the    light   of    Heaven    in    those 

peaceful  soul-lit  eyes ; 
Ne'ef   can  list  to  sweetest  music,  spell,  where  hush 

the  angel-wings, 

Weird  through  mild,  unconscious  pathos  which  dim- 
dying  memory  brings  : 
Never  human  foot  has  journey'd  o'er  that  dark  and 

long  abyss, 
Toward  where  hearts,   new-nerved    by  loving,    thrill 

the  pulse  to  endless  bliss  : 
Seldom    saintly    guest    has    blest    us    down    amid 

these  vales  below  ; 


A   POEM.  275 

Or,    inspired   by    recollection,    read    a    requiem    to 

woe : 
Still  we  spy  there  changeless   beauty:   still  we  feel 

thence  ceaseless  charm, 
Drawing  all  the  spirit  from  us,  toward  a  home  that 

knows  no  harm. 

xxxvi. 

Search  the  faith  of  all  the  nations :  you   shall  find 

them  by  a  sea, 
Peering   off  from  earthly   sorrow,  toward  far   lands 

of  mystery  ; 
Where,  as   firmly    trusts    each    mortal,  for  the  soul 

that  does  his  best, 
Gardens  wait  of  endless   plenty  where   an   endless 

wish  may  rest. 
All  embark :    the  mists  are  heavy :   down  they  fall, 

the  skiffs  between, 

Dark-dividing  every  brother,  shrouding  every  dear 
est  mien  : 
Oh !   but  when  all,  all   shall  follow,  shall  not  some 

cross  o'er  the  main? — • 
Fann'd   be    hopes    that    brighten    being !     Heaven 

lures  to  naught  in  vain  ! 

XXXVII. 

Hard   we    strive   for    deeds  immortal ;   but  we   die 

before  our  day  : 
And   the    soul    that    plann'd   for    manhood   falls   a 

child  amid  its  play : 
Deep  we  pant  for  rarer  wisdom,  higher  views  than 

Earth  can  give  ;  — 


276  WATCHING: 

Shall  we  never,  never  find  them,  where  the  wish  ful- 
filPd  may  live  ? 

XXXVIII. 

Yes  !    I   know  of  skeptic  sages,  and   of  proof  that 

cannot  pray ; 
That   along  the   lines   of  feeling  jars   a   contradic- 

tive  "  nay  !  " 
"  Gaze,"  say  they,  "  and   search   about  you :    earth 

is  green ;  and  heaven  is  blue. 
In  the   morn,  before   you   knew  it.  calmly  rose   the 

sun  to  view. 
Why   should   not  the  gentle  vesper  just   as   softly 

steal  the  day? 
Come,  while  sunbeams  strew   the   meadows,  let   us 

dance  along  the  way; 
Hunt   the   Fruit  in    arbors  blushing ;   and   be  sure 

when  sinks  the  eve 
That  our  patient  mother  Nature   shall  these  weary 

limbs  receive, 
And,  as   sweetly   as  she  roused  us   on  the   dreamy 

morn  of  life, 
Soothe    exhausted    powers    to    slumber,    dead    and 

consciousless  of  strife." 
i 

XXXIX. 

Ah  but  Hope  !  can  it  be  stifled  ?  —  Where  that  misty 

morn  were  you? 
Did  the  mother's  first  caressing  wake  one  joy  to 

conscious  view? 
Whither  then  has  fled  the  memory  of  that  dear  and 

doting  voice  ? 


A   POEM.  277 

Where  the  thought  of  those  dull  eyelids  ?  where  the 

the  sight  that  fixt  the  choice  ?  — 
What  was   mind?  —  a  dawning  glimmer   scarce   in 

babe  yet  manifest. 
What    is   mind  ?  —  it    spurns   to    slumber,   tho'  the 

body  faint  for  rest. 
Down   amid  those   grand   reformers,  see   the   elder 

leader  swoon, 
What  is  mind  ?  — -a  life  far  stronger  than  in  youth  of 

blazing  noon ! 
As    the    corpse   the   night  frost   withers,  hark,   the 

voice !    it  is  not  loud  ; 
But  the   troubled   nations   tremble !   sinks  the   soul 

within  the  shroud? 

XL. 

Trust  me,  mind  is  not  like  matter,  moulded,  weld 
ed,  multiple, 

Numb  in  snow,  and  sprung  in  sunshine,  by  the 
storms  dissoluble : 

'Tis  the  breath  of  God !  a  spirit  snared  to  work 
these  lobes  of  clay  : 

'Tis  the  air  that  shakes  the  leaf,  its  home  where'er 

a  star  can  stray.! 

* 

XLI. 

Where  was  nature  prone  to  wasting?  or  one  power 

without  its  need? 
Watch   the   brute,  what   fills   his   thinking  ?  —  mate, 

and  young,  and  rest,  and  feed  : 
What   the   man's  ?  —  alas  !    you   know   it,   how   you 

tremble  for  the  Fall : 


278  WATCHING: 

How  you  tremble  for  the  spirit,  nor  believe  that 
death  is  all. 

Oh,  ye  souls,  who  feel  the  future,  meditate  Eter 
nity, 

Doubt  ye  not  that  powers  of  being  Nature's  pur 
pose  verify !  — 

XLII. 

Or   that  deeds  —  I   saw  a  maiden   track   a  thorny 

desert  wide  : 
And  I  saw   her  face  beam   brighter,  as  she  dash'd 

her  tears  aside : 

On  and  on,  tho'   stumbling   often,  with   a   gaze  in 
tent  she  sped; 
While  behind  the  path  grew  plainer  from  the  blood 

her  wounds  had  shed  : 
Then    she    fell,  and,    sweetly   fainting,    said :    "  My 

soul  no  more  shall  roam !  " 
And,  so   smiling,   left  the    body,    which   had  borne 

her  thus  toward  home  ! 
Ah !    I  felt  that  joy  so  real  was  a  herald  bright  of 

Day, 
At  whose  break,  like  mists  at  dawning,  only  darker 

life  gives  way. 

» 

XLIII. 

Justice     rules    the     course     before    us !     nay !    the 

throng'd  fatigues  and  pains, 
Which  the  patient   martyr   suffers,  are   not  all  that 

duty  gains. 
Sounding   through   the  dying   whispers  of  the  men 

who  live  for  God, 


A  POEM.  279 

Throbs  a  call  to  grander  life  ere  casting  off  ex 
pended  sod. 

Oh !  I  know,  no  whims  in  cloud  are  these  bright 
towers  beyond  me  spread  : 

And  life's  fickle  prow  I  steady  toward  the  beacons 
overhead. 

All  my  love  in  them  converging,  what  care  I  how 
strong  the  gale 

Speeding  time  when,  not  a  stranger,  I  shall  reef 
my  shatter'd  sail ! 

XLIV. 

If,  too  strain'd  for  earthly  progress,  age  to  weak 
ness  yield  at  length, 

Without  gain  or  power  to  forward,  wherefore  should 
I  weep  for  strength  ? 

From  a  solitary  Patmos  could  the  promise  of  the 
Lord 

Still  outvie  a  cherish'd  mission,  while  one  waited 
on  His  word : 

After  life  below  promotion  lifts  to  rest  of  regions 
higher 

With  the  Master-mind  to  witness  how  the  Times 
attain  desire. 

And,  still  in  the  life  below,  Faith,  Faith  which  is 
eternal  gain, 

Can  outlive  all  disappointment,  and  make  Wisdom's 
progress  plain  ; 

While  the  Beatific  Vision  bends  to  meet  the  rev 
erent  soul, 

And  the  shades  of  partial  living  hie  from  dawning 
of  the  whole  ! 


280  WATCHING: 


XLV. 

Oh  dawn  thus,  Thou  Holy  Spirit,  Infinite,  Un 
changing  Love, 

Power,  Truth,  Wisdom,  Justice,  Beauty,  throned 
eternally  above; 

Father  of  all  works  and  worship ;  Father,  Maker, 
Mover,  Word, 

Source,  and  Sum,  and  Destination,  but  apart  from 
all,  and  Lord ; 

Life  of  ages,  which,  like  echoes  floating  from  eter 
nity, 

Spring  through  time  to  make  Thy  mandates  mark'd 
to  finite  memory ; 

Life  of  spheres,  where  wandering  wonders  speak 
the  praises  of  Thy  dower, 

Flash'd  from  seas  of  snowy  summits,  and  instilFd 
above  the  flower  ; 

Life  of  man,  whose  upright  image,  high-aspiring 
from  the  dust, 

Looks  to  Thee,  his  pride,  his  pattern,  his  incite 
ment,  and  his  trust; 

Life  of  life's  unresting  current,  bearing  all  souls 
dream,  or  are, 

Silent,  swift,  and  broad,  and  blessed,  toward  eter 
nal  rest  afar; 

Thanks  to  Thee  and  adoration,  that  the  mind, 
whose  freedom  hied 

In  the  first  strange  dread  of  duty  from  the  sway 
it  had  not  tried, 

Finds,  'mid  rankest  growth  of  doubting,  naught 
to  hide  by  human  ill 


A   POEM.  281 

Crystal   touches  of  creation   to   reflect  the  Maker's 

will; 
Wheresoe'er   the   danger   threaten,  that   the  lonely, 

trembling  soul 
Ne'er  can  tear  itself  from  purpose  destined  for  the 

general  whole ; 
Or  from  Him,  whose  grandest  glory  all  things  are, 

and  e'er  shall  be  ; 
Or  from   Perfect   Love,  which  governs   wisely  tho' 

with  mystery. 
Thanks,  for   Word   of  Inspiration,  comfort,  Christ, 

and  Truth  to  prize; 

And  the   golden   fruit  of  ages   ripening  into   Para 
dise  ! 
And  oh  grant,  All  Conscious  Spirit,  —  and  the  very 

prayer  is  bliss 
Which  can  feel  Thy  nearing  presence  ere  a  word  is 

formed  of  this,  — 
From  the  minds  of  those  who  seek  Thee,  and  rely 

upon  Thy  might, 
And  on  every  loving  token  Thou  has  sent  through 

all  the  night, 
Lift  away  the  veils  of  darkness,  till   each  watchful 

eye  may  trace 

Clearer,  nearer  to  his   vision,  outlines  of  Thy  des 
tined  grace; 
Woo   mankind  to   feelings   kindly;   rouse   to  deeds 

of  charity ; 
Rid  of  lies,  that   soul  to  soul  may  grow  an   image 

bright  of  Thee. 
Come  at  last,  oh  come,  Lord  Jesus,  spreading  worth 

from  man  to  man ; 


282  WATCHING: 

Close  the  annals  of  confusion,  draw  the  limits  of 
the  plan : 

Quickly  come,  Oh  Holy  Spirit,  sanctify  the  waiting 
world  ; 

Burst  the  grander  resurrection,  from  the  earth  be 
neath  it  whirl'd  ! 

Call  immortal  life  to  regions,  whence  all  sin  and 
sorrow  fall  ! 

Raise,  to  reign  in  endless  union  with  Thy  Love ! 
the  All  in  All  ! 

XLVI. 

And  for  him  whose   watch   still   lengthens,  whatso 
e'er  report  be  brought, 
May  he  learn  to   wait,  and  doubt  not  of  the  glory 

to  be  wrought ; 
Thankful  for   all  wish,  and   action,  thought,  or  joy 

or  misery, 
Life,    and   every  hope   which   lingers   that   the   life 

may  honor  Thee. 
Pardon   him  for  ways   that  wander ;   and  for  words 

that  are  not  wise, 
And  outweigh  by  contradiction   all  Thou  canst  not 

authorize. 
Strengthen  him,  whate'er  his  fortune,  ceasing  never 

more  to  do, 
But,  in  all  his  doing,  trusting   Thee  alone  to  work 

the  true. 
Bide  with  him  when  danger  deepens,  proof  against 

the  final  test, 


A    POEM.  283 

Looking  not  to  earth  beneath  him,  but  above,  for 
all  his  rest, 

Choosing,  daring,  doubting,  learning,  loving,  serv 
ing,  watching,  then, 

When  shall  come  the  great  Deliverer,  may  he  join 
the  long  Amen. 


DO. 

nnHERE  came  a  time  at  which  the  poet's  friends, 
JL       Once  more,  from  impulse  swift  of  sudden  joy, 
Did  meet  with  him.     There,   'twixt  the  courses   throng'd 
Of  praiseful  scenes,  he  spoke : 

"  Peace,  peace  has  come 

For  our  loved  land  and  cause,  not  less,  I  feel, 
Than  for  the  soul  whose  thought,  these  busy  years, 
Your  kindness  has  found  seasons  to  assist. 
A  weakness  that  has  task'd  your  aid  so  long, 
Dare  it  request  one  further  service  now  ? 
A  deed  as  dear  to  it  as  psalms  of  peace 
To  chief  who  dies  'mid  dreams  of  work  complete  ?  — 
I  would  intrust  to  you,  dear  friends,  whate'er 
Our  mutual  memories  of  life  have  gain'd. 
Ah,  we  have  found  no  Christ,  only  a  man, 
Weak,  ignorant,  bias'd,  rash,  ambitious,  proud, 
One  prone  to  err,  oft  tempted  from  the  right, 
And  yet  train'd  toward  the  good,  as  we  may  hope, 
Because  of  pure  Wish  rear'd  in  a  free  land 
Where  only  God's  laws  check  development ! 
And  if  the  tales  do  mirror  forth  true  life, 
From  them,  perchance,  some  may,  as  from  true  life,  — 
Told  too  through  lips  of  a  confiding  friend,  — 
Trace  wiser  ways  than  man's  ;  the  mirror  held 
Not  as  a  glass  to  children  smiling  still, 
Fond  of  vain  likeness,  but  as  a  kindred  heart 
Whose  struggling  life-throbs  render  likeness  love, 
Whose  faults,  tho'  strong,  train  struggle,  and,  with  it, 
That  one  thing  worthy  here,  a  worthy  Wish. 
Yes,  like  the  fount  of  Massah,  moved  by  God, 


286  CONCL  USION. 

I  do  believe  that  wish  may  spring  t'revive, 

Some  germs  that  lurk  e'en  in  the  rock  !  flow  thence 

To  make  the  barren  desert  bloom  !  all  earth 

A  habitable  home  ! 

"  And  you,  dear  friends, 

You  who  have  aided  much,  since  all  the  truth 
Seems  half-truth  without  setting,  will,  perchance, 
Add   when   how   and  by  whom   these   tales  were   penn'd. 
And  if  in  aught  Truth  did  bend  modestly 
To  welcome  in  a  mood  inspiring  it, 
More  whimsical  with  youth,  more  wise  with  age, 
Truth,  thus,  may've  gain'd  in  power  to  influence, 
In  form  to  make  verse  fitted  for  its  aim  — 
To  wake  an  inspiration  through  the  world; 
To  rouse  for  music  of  a  life  complete 
Some  weary  souls  that  turn  aside  from  care, 
'Mid  restful  musings  on  ideal  good, 
To  read  what  pleases  and  may  profit  them. 
God  crown  such  aims  !  —  and  then,  with  growing  worth, 
Altho'  these  tales  be  told  of  one  alone, 
Their  spirit  shall  speak  life  for  more  than  one." 


poems 


M505434 


